#but yeah I guess I’m finally watching it

[dollishmehrayan]

# “THE WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK…” ── .✦ ( batboys w an unhinged!reader and blunt!reader )

a/n: this is from my little brain of mine , and I like to honor it for @kyriakis anywhoo I’m back and omg 1k?! Alsoo guys dw! I’m gonna do the event tomorrow && I’m gonna pick out some prompts I have organized, so i didn't forget okay but i just got a lot of DMs asking when I’m gonna do it for you guyss so yeah it’s gonna be tomorrow since I’m gonna re-edit + add some ideas of your guys votes!! Tags: (batboys x unhinged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s always caught off guard but loves it. Your bluntness is a breath of fresh air for Dick, who’s so used to diplomatic conversations. You say whatever’s on your mind with zero filter, and he’s like, “Oh, wow. Okay. I respect it.”

Hates it when you don’t hold back with him. He’s used to being the charming, funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but you hit him with a “That was dumb, don’t do that again” and his brain short circuits for a second. “You can’t just say that!” “Why not?”

Finds it hilarious when you wreck other people’s egos. You have zero time for anyone’s nonsense, and when someone messes up, you let them know. Dick’s in the background, trying not to laugh. “Do you not think before you speak?!…” He’s always acts so shocked but hey, he’s kinda enjoying it unless it’s aimed at him. (He can’t fight verbally for the life of him without saying some cringe shit)

Doesn’t even try to change you. Dick knows what he’s getting into, and he loves you for it. He’s never going to ask you to ‘tone it down.’ He actually finds your unapologetic attitude pretty hot.

He’s 50% worried you’ll get into trouble, 50% impressed. But in the end, he’ll always back you up, saying, “She’s just honest. Get used to it.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finally, someone who speaks his language. Jason lives for the fact that you don’t care what people think. He loves how blunt you are, especially when you cut through the BS with the precision of a sharp knife.

Gets protective when people try to push your boundaries. If someone dares disrespect you, Jason’s the first one to step in. “You’ve got a problem with her? You’ve got a problem with me.”, “Jason that was so fucking cringey..”

Appreciates that you don't sugarcoat things for him. You’ll tell him exactly how it is, whether it’s about his attitude or a bad decision he made, and he respects it, it’s like the tt sound where “that’s when it hit me, it was the best idea I ever had..” but like this: “Not gonna lie, that was a terrible plan, Jay,” and he’ll just nod. “Fair.”

You guys have the most chaotic, weirdest conversations. It’s a mix of witty banter, ridiculous one-liners, and deadpan sarcasm. Other people can’t even keep up with the energy.

The idea of dating a ‘good girl’ never appealed to him anyway. He thrives off your unhinged energy. You’re unpredictable, and it keeps him on his toes, which he loves. “Yeah, you’re definitely not boring.” (Although the thing is he does love innocent people, like if you’re like gen clueless he wants preserve your innocence.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s brain can’t keep up with you. Your blunt, no-nonsense attitude constantly makes him blink in confusion. One minute you’re casually roasting someone, and the next, you’re giving a straight-up critique of his latest plan. He’s learning that he can’t outthink you.

He admires your unapologetic honesty. Tim has a lot of internalized doubts, so watching you casually reject anyone’s judgment is a nice contrast. You don’t apologize for your thoughts, and it’s something he secretly admires.

Constantly second-guesses himself around you. Your sharp tongue makes him want to be as confident as you. He gets nervous about saying anything that might sound soft, so when he stumbles, you’re like, “What was that? I swear you just whispered something.” And he’ll blush hard, muttering an apology.

You both have a sarcastic sense of humor that others don’t quite get. You say something outrageous, and Tim will respond with the driest remark possible. People in the room often wonder if you two are joking or just genuinely a bit rude.

Not scared to call him out. When Tim’s too nice, you’ll be like, “You need to stop letting people walk all over you. Grow some teeth.” Tim won’t admit it, but that does motivate him to be a little bolder.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit taken aback at first. He’s used to people being respectful or like seeing him as kinda a role model, so when you come out with a “That’s dumb, don’t even talk to me right now,” he’s not sure how to handle it. He will stand there, blinking, while processing your bluntness. (He’s too stunned to speak 😞)

Genuinely respects your forthrightness, though. “I’ll admit, I have never met someone so… honest.” He starts respecting you even more, thinking you’re someone he can’t manipulate or charm easily.

Loves that you’re as stubborn as he is. If you’re determined about something, there’s no changing your mind. You’ll fight for your opinions even if it gets you into a heated debate. And Damian’s right there with you, arguing like it’s the most fun thing in the world.

Tries to match your bluntness. “You talk too much,” he says one day, and you immediately reply, “And yet, here you are, listening to every word I say.” Damian actually pauses for a second, impressed. “Right..”

Loves how you’ll shut down his critics with zero hesitation. Someone says something disrespectful to him, and you’ll be the first to shoot back, “He doesn’t need your advice, trust me.” He’ll give you a proud little smirk. “I like the way you handle things.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, Bruce is a bit disconcerted by your bluntness. Bruce’s the kind of guy who expects people to be formal and classy, and you just come in with “This entire meeting is a waste of my time. I don’t care about any of this.” He blinks, then quietly admires your bravery.

Totally respects your unfiltered honesty. Bruce has had enough of the world’s games, so when you don’t bother to pretend or hold anything back, it’s like a breath of fresh air for him.

Secretly loves when you don’t play nice." He knows you're not afraid of saying what you think, and when you call him out on his brooding or overly protective behavior, he listens. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not trusting you more.” (He totally doesn’t have a tracker on your hair clip..🥰)

You both have moments of pure savage honesty that no one else gets. There’s no need for filters, and you’ll both exchange one-liners so dry that it leaves everyone else in the room confused.

Finds it endearing when you make his plans more interesting. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?” You snap at him in a room full of his board members, and he just gives you a look that says, “I’m never apologizing for you.”

[henry7931]

Billy’s College Adventure Part 2

Samuel:

“Oh fuck!!!”

I scream out as Billy’s body pours out cum all over his slim chest. I stare down at cute dick I know have possession over.

That’s when the doorbell starts ringing. Well he’s quicker than I thought. I better get his body cleaned up. I quickly wipe off Billy’s chest and grab his shirt.

The doorbell rings over and over again.

“I’m coming! Just hold on a sec!”

I look through the peephole and my body waiting outside for me to open the door.

“Who is it?,” I say just to mess with him.

“YOU KNOW WHO IT IS!”

���Hmmm… well I wasn’t expecting company. Not sure who you could be. Have we met before?”

“Dude! I’m in your body, you’re in mine. Can we just cut to the point and you let me in!”

“What’s the secret password?”

“Purple! Now let me in!”

“No… the password isn’t a ‘word.’ It’s a gesture…”

“Hey it’s me! In your body, what’s up? Is this good enough?”

I bust out laughing, I thought he was going to flick me off.

I open up the door and Billy comes storming in.

“You know! It’s one thing for you to highjack my body! But it’s another for you to LITERALLY LOCK ME OUT,” says Billy who’s now in my (our I should say his) face.

“Oof! You got a spicy side! I like it!,” I say back with a big grin.

“Are got to be kidding me! You know what, I’ll fix this.”

I watch as Billy tries his hardest to switch us back. He tries for about a minute before giving up.

“Fuck! Why can’t I switch us back?”

“Oh Billy, you really don’t know the first thing about your powers do you? You’re a swapper. A swapper can’t un-swap somebody who’s also a swapper. Now you can swap others that I’ve swapped but you can’t swap us. Only I can now.”

I watch as Billy paced around the room struggling with the fact that I’m in control here.

“So I have a few questions,” he says to me.

“Sure!”

“First off, who the hell are you?!?”

“Well currently I’m you. But normally I’m Samuel, Sam for short.”

“Great. So you obviously are a—”

“Swapper.”

“Yes, you’re a swapper. Like me which I didn’t even know others existed outside of me.”

“Well other swappers are a little more quiet about their abilities. You just have yourself away earlier today.”

“I know, I figured that out pretty quick. This feels weird, normally it’s me hitting someone with the body swap surprise. Wait a minute, why did you swap that guy and that professor?”

“Great question! That Dufus really pissed me off. And I don’t really care for that professor so freaking him out too was just an added bonus.”

I watch as he tries his hardest to get a good read on me. It’s so refreshing to even talk about this someone who’s not my family. Granted the only other swapper in my family was my great uncle. He was kind enough to leave me a rule book.

“So you just did that to be petty?”

“Well yeah I guess, sounds terrible when you put it that way. But trust me that guy had it coming.”

“That seems pretty immature of you.”

“Oh so you’ve never just swapped with someone for the hell of it?”

“That’s not what I’m saying… I mean of course I have but it’s been years!”

“Geez Billy, didn’t know you set the roles for the swapper community.”

“Shut up, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying you really freaked those two out. Maybe like a simple prank could have worked.”

“Billy, I don’t think you understand how different the two of us are from the rest of the world. Most swapper do way worse things— sides I would have eventually swapped them back.”

Billy gets quiet for a second. I watch as he flops down on his couch. 

“So now that you kidnapped my body, what’s your plan here?,” says Billy.

“Finally! That was the question I’ve been waiting on. So I’ll be honest with you. I’ve personally never met another swapper outside of a family member who I really didn’t get to know. But he did leave me with a lot about our powers. And I want to start really using mine. But the kind of stuff I want to do is hard to do alone. So I guess in the nicest way I can say this… I’ll give you your body back as long as you join me in my exploration. Thoughts?”

“Ummm… is this going to be dangerous or potentially hurt someone?”

“Ahhhh no, at least not directly.”

“What do you mean by not directly?”

“Well I guess you can either find out and get your body back or just stay as me until I decide to swap us back. Which could be a very long time… years maybe.”

“Ugh fine! I’ll do whatever.”

“Cool!”

2 Hours Later…

Billy and I crashed out on his couch. It took him a bit to speak to me but once he got going he had so many questions about me. I let him ask me about my life, my family, etc. and he eventually started to open up about himself as well.

“So let me get this straight? You forced your babysitter to swap bodies with you like every time he came over??,” I ask him.

“Oh yeah! Honestly, I feel a little bad about it now because he’s so nice. Literally has no hard feelings. I was just a nightmare growing up. I could never stay in my body when I was young and trust me my dads tried hard! I even ran away a couple of times with his body. They of course found me every time. It sounds terrible but I really enjoyed being him.”

“That’s funny, I used to get really annoyed easy at family functions. I was a very emotional teen and my dad’s brother was a bit of a prick. Always thought he was jealous since he didn’t get the swapper trait and I did. I would literally swap everyone around just to piss all of them off. I’d even make sure everyone swapped with someone who I knew they would hate to be… oh this one time. I swapped my uncle and our dog for like a week. I got into sooo much trouble but it was so worth it.”

“Oh god not the dog!!”

“Yep! Even took my dog to the park. It was hilarious!”

We went back and forth on our swap stories for hours. I door dashed us a bunch of food (on Billy’s card of course, I knew he would be cool with it the second I heard his parents are loaded lol).

“So do you have like any booze here?,” I asked him.

“Oh yeah! Want a glass of wine?”

“Sure!”

“Any preferences?”

“I mean I have your pallet so whatever you like lol.”

“Trueee, I guess I should asked for me haha.”

“Well I prefer red wines.”

“Gross!”

“You’re gonna like it I promise.”

We both crack open two bottles of wine and turn on a movie in the background. After a couple of glasses I started to feel a little frisky and maybe a little too open

“So I have a confession to make,” I say to him.

“Oh god, what is it?”

“It’s nothing bad! Oh god, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Sit it out Sam!”

“Well before you got here, I um… I may have enjoyed your equipment.”

Billy sits up and for a second I thought he was going to be mad at me.

“Sam did you jerk off in my body?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t even explored your body, especially since I just rushed over here. And you explore all of mine huh?”

“Yeah I don’t know, it’s been a minute since I’ve swapped with a cute guy. I may have just lost control.”

“Ohhhh so you think I’m cute?” he gives me a cheeky grin.

“Ugh, don’t get too excited.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair for me to have my turn,” he says with a bigger more cynical grin.

“What?!?”

“You heard me! I’m forced to be you so it’s only fair for me to have my fun too!”

“Fine!,” I say back. I feel a rush hit me. I’ve never been around a guy that’s in my body talking about using my body that way. It’s kinda hot.

“So what you’re gonna go to your room or do it right here?,” I say to him sarcastically.

He takes a big swig from the bottle of wine and pulls my shirt off.

“You wanna come watch the show?,” he says winking at me.

Before I can answer Billy grabs my hand and pulls me up. I follow him to his bedroom.

Billy pulls down my sweatpants and hops onto his bed.

“What do you think? Do you look… sexy?”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Okay… here is the big reveal!,” he says to me slowly lowering my underwear.

“1..2..3…”

Billy pulls my underwear down and my dick flies out. It’s completely hard.

“Nice!! 10 out 10 dick right here,” he says holding my dick.

“You gonna…”

“Slow down cowboy! It’s my turn to explore.”

I watch Billy gently fondle my goods. I can feel his dick pulsating— I can barely hide the fact that I’m just as turned on.

“So Sam, now it’s my turn to give you two options. You can hop into bed with me and we can full around or you can stand right in that exact spot with my hard on all night. Which one will it be?”

“Bed.”

“Good, now get over here!”

Billy nearly rips the clothes off of his body.

“Is it weird that I want to kiss you right now,” he says to me.

“Nah, just a little self love,” I say back.

We start making out and he’s such a great kisser. I feel him reach down and he starts fondling his dick.

“You’re so sexy,” I say to him.

He kiss my neck and says, “your body or me?”

“Your presence, your body. But you all around.”

“So are you, even though you’re a bit of a dick.”

“What turns you on the most Billy?,” I ask him.

He lifts up his head, “you really want to know?”

“Yeah I do.”

“Feet.”

Somehow, someway, I got even harder from the words that came out of his mouth.

“Is that weird?”

“Fuck no because that’s what turns me on too.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope! Your feet are so sexy…,” I say to him.

He looks at mine and grins.

“You have cute feet too.”

“Would it be weird if we…,” I say gesturing to his toes.

“Nope!”

I use Billys feet and wrap them around my dick. I start stroking back and forth. He lets out grunts in between.

I maneuver back and forth using his toes to grip.

“Don’t stop Sam! Fuckkkk,” he yells out.

I go faster and faster…

Billy is moaning sooo loud…

And then he screams out, “IM CUMMING!!!”

Cum squirts out on to his feet covering them.

He grabs his foot and does something so hot. I watch as he licks foot clean with my mouth.

“Shit… that was amazing…”

[sshadow-heartz]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

•Squid Game C.AI bots here!

🤍Cho Sang-Woo x Player!Reader

🤍With one more game to go, Sang-Woo doesn’t like your odds. He loves you enough to know that you don’t need to continue suffering, taking things into his own hands…

🤍Word Count: 1.2k

🤍Tags: Angst, Murder, Slight Gore?, Glass Shard as murder weapon, Stabbing,False Hope, Betrayal

•masterlist

‼️If you are sensitive to the tagged topics, please keep scrolling!‼️

It had been a long day. After a dangerous game of glass stepping stones, you had watched player after player fall to their death. Only three of you remained - Sang-Woo, Gi-Hun and yourself.

Retreating to your bed, you looked up at the ceiling, the large piggy bank sending a soft, golden glow over the room. It had to be almost over, right? There were only three of you left, surely there were no more than two games to go.

You sighed, thinking of everything you would be able to do once winning. Pay off your debts, get a drink with your friends…

Start over.

Your thoughts were interrupted by footsteps, and you turn your gaze towards the sound. It was just Sang-Woo, you had grown to become fond of the man during your time. You had been apart of the same team, alongside Gi-Hun, Ali…

Painful memories crossed your mind, Ali was gone. He wasn’t coming back. You had to move on, no matter how tough it felt.

“Quiet in here, huh?” Sang-Woo’s voice speaks up, drawing you away from your own mind. He was stood above you, a few scrapes across his face from the glass tiles exploding. Dark eyes studied yours, his own expression unreadable. You could never tell what he was truly thinking.

“Yeah… it’s weird without everyone else here,” you shrug, the room holding a strange eeriness without the hundreds of players that once resided with you. “How many more games do you think there are?”

He stayed quiet, thinking. “One… maybe two? That’s my guess. Just a little longer and we’ll all be out of here and way richer than we ever were, too.”

You smiles, nodding at his reassurance. “Yeah, you’re right,” you nod, patting the space on your bed for him to sit down.

Taking a seat, Sang-Woo keeps his hand in his pocket, the other reaching forward to rest on your thigh. His thumb strokes your skin through the fabric of your pants, looking down at you with a slight hint of softness. “You’re coming for a drink with me and Gi-Hun, right? When we get out of here?”

“Of course,” you smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Settling into comfortable silence, you allow your eyes to slip closed. You could feel Sang-Woo’s hand on your thigh, a small comfort in such a place. The two of you had grown close rapidly, you admired him. He was smart, and confident and seemed to know what he was doing. All of that lured you in, made you desperate to win his affection. He had seen you during the dalgona round, working ever so calm despite the shootings around you. He knew you would fight to survive, and he wasn’t sure if he loved you for it, or hated it.

Sang-Woo looked down at you, eyes closed and breathing steady. He couldn’t work out if you were sleeping, though it’d be best if you were…

Glancing over his shoulder, he could see Gi-Hun across the room, taking a much needed nap. He turned back to you, sliding his hand out of his pocket. He glanced down, eyeing the object he had been keeping so secretly.

A glass shard, sharp and easy enough to stab someone with. He took a breath, steadying himself and his nerves. Sang-Woo had decided you needed to go nights before, a long thought-out choice. He theorised the final game would be between the three of you, some sort of direct competition against each of you. Sang-Woo knew there could only be one winner, one player who takes the amount home.

You had become a distraction to him, his feelings overriding his logic. You were beautiful, strangely optimistic after what you had been through, and gosh, he… he loved you. He knew that if you faced against him, he would let you win. Let you walk away with the money, and a better life. No, he needed that money for himself. It’d be him and Gi-Hun. He could take down his childhood best friend, surely…

Sang-Woo leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. A sick and twisted act of love before enacting his wicked plan. He watched as your eyes fluttered open, smiling up at him as though he’s the most wonderful man in the world. He wasn’t, not that you needed to know that.

“Get some sleep,” he whispered, trying to make it easier. You wouldn’t struggle, or cry or yell. He didn’t want you to view him as a monster. In a way, he was doing something good for you. What if you suffered in the next game? What if you had to watch him die? No… that wouldn’t be an option for you. You’d have the peaceful way out, all thanks to him.

“Lay with me?” You ask, softly. It was such an innocent request, he couldn’t deny you. Laying down behind you, he wrapped an arm over your waist, pulling you against his chest. “You’re safe with me,” he lied. “Nobody will hurt you.”

Both laying in silence, legs tangled together, Sang-Woo waited for you to begin drifting off. He had to wait for the right moment, he didn’t want you to fight him on this. You wouldn’t realise it was for the good of things. His mind replayed everything you had told him. You were in severe debt, over a million won. You had nobody out there, no family, no friends. Loan sharks were waiting to get you.

It was no life for anyone. Even if you paid off your debts, you’d still be alone. There was no way you’d all make it out alive. He knew that, he wasn’t dumb. He, on the other hand, had plenty to return to. He could get himself out of debt, though his reputation would still be ruined. He could give money to his mother, have enough to live comfortably. Yes, Sang-Woo knew he needed to survive. It’d be better for him than it would be for you.

He leaned down, face nuzzled against your neck. A final moment of comfort, his arm wrapped around you tightly. He had the glass shard ready and waited, concealed in his free hand. Gi-Hun was still sleeping, nobody paying close enough attention to him or to you.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Before your half-asleep mind can process his words, Sang-Woo digs the glass shard into your stomach. He continues to hold you close, your blood pooling on the bed. He strokes your hair, whispering soft comforts to you.

“Shh, just let it happen. Its for the best, you’ll see that.”

You cough and choke, unable to say anything as the light drains from your eyes and blood pools into your mouth. You felt pain, and nothing more than that. A white, hot blinding pain as the room began to dim. You were tired, so… so tired. It’d feel so good to close your eyes right now.

As Sang-Woo felt you go limp in his arms, a small tune played over the speakers, a voice ringing out.

“Lights out! All players must return to their beds.”

As the lights shut off, Sang-Woo closed his eyes. He took a few deep breaths to calm his shaking hands. One more game, he repeated in his mind. One more game…

[slaytheday12]

Heyyy

I hope you're having a good day/night/else?

It's 2025 soon and I was wondering if (maybe) you could do a Walker Scobell x reader at like a new year party and Walker confess ? Please?

If you don't want to it's totally fine, byeeee

Midnight Confessions

The excitement of the New Year's Eve party filled the air as you made your way into the crowded room. The lights flickered above, and the laughter of your friends echoed around you. Everyone was excited to for the new year, but as soon as your eyes found Walker in the crowd, everything seemed to slow down.

It wasn’t that you weren’t used to seeing him, but tonight felt different. You and Walker had been friends for a while now ever since the beginning of the school year, to be exact. But as you watched him across the room, laughing with his friends, something inside you tingled. Maybe it was the way he looked under the soft glow of the lights, or how effortlessly he smiled. Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny that recently, your feelings for him have felt… different.

As you made your way over to him, your heart started to race a little. He smiled at you when you finally reached him, his face lighting up like it always did when he saw you. “Hey, you made it,” he said with a grin, his voice filled with excitement. “I’m glad you came.”

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, trying to act calm, but your nervousness was starting to creep in. “Happy New Year, Walker.”

“Happy New Year,” he said, raising his cup to you. “So, how’s your night going so far?”

“It’s great,” you answered, glancing around at all the people dancing, laughing, and celebrating. But you couldn’t help going back to focusing on him. “A bit loud, but... I guess that’s what you expect at a New Year’s party.”

Walker laughed and nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy in here. But hey, it’s the new year, right?”

You nodded in agreement, but your mind was elsewhere. Tonight was special there was a weird feeling in the air that you couldn’t shake. You had been friends for a while, but lately its felt more intimate between the two of you and you couldn't shake the feeling.

“So… this is fun,” you say awkwardly, trying to break the silence.

Walker shifted slightly, his gaze becoming more serious as he looked at you. “Yeah, but... there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You were suddenly aware of the quiet hum of music in the background, as the chatter of everyone around you began fading. You turned your attention fully to him, your nerves heightening. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his eyes flicking to the side for a second before returning to meet yours. "You know, we’ve been friends for a while now. And I don’t want to make things awkward, but" he exhaled nervously "I umm, i’ve been thinking about this for a while."

Your stomach fluttered, a mix of concern and confusion building. What was he about to say? “What’s wrong walker?” you asked softly.

“I... I like you, okay?” he said quickly, his words rushing out in a nervous tone. “I really like you. More than just as a friend, but I'm not sure if you feel the same way. And I didn’t want to mess things up, you know? Its like totally fine if u don't or whatever” he said in a nervous scramble.

Your breath caught in your throat, the room spinning slightly. You stared at him for a moment, trying to process what he had just said. Walker liked you. More than a friend. It was hard to wrap your head around.

“I—I didn’t know you felt that way,” you said slowly, your voice a little shaky. "I didn’t think you’d... I mean, you never said anything before."

Walker ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. “I know. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and I thought maybe it was just me. But I couldn’t keep it in anymore.” he said in a more serious tone whilst scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart was seriously pounding now. He had just confessed, and you didn’t know what to say. You had always thought of Walker as a good friend, someone you could count on, I mean, I guess recently you've been feeling a bit different about him, but you went exactly sure what it was. But hearing walker say those words made everything feel different.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. “Walker, I didn’t—wow. I didn’t know you felt that way either. I’ve been thinking about you a lot more lately, but... I don’t know. I’ve just always seen us as friends.”

“I get it,” he said quickly, as he turned away avoiding eye contact. He took a second before looking back at you with saddened eyes. “I didn’t want to make things weird, but I think... I think I just needed to tell you. I’ve been trying to act like everything’s normal, but I feel like I’m lying to myself.”

You smiled at him gently, as your heart began filling with warmth. “I’m glad you told me. I don’t want things to be awkward either, but... I like you too, Walker. I’m just not sure where this leaves us.”

Walker’s eyes lit up with hope, his smile wide and full of happines. “Really?”

You nodded chucking at his excitement. “Yeah. Really. It’s just... everything’s moving so fast, you know? I didn’t expect this to happen tonight.” you said truthfully.

“I didn’t either,” he admitted, laughing. “But here we are, .... maybe we can start with a date, and see how we go.” walker asked.

But before you could agree to what walker said, the countdown for the new year began, taking over the whole room.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Walker moved a little closer, his eyes not leaving yours. There was a soft tension in the air now, one of understanding. This was a start of something special between the two of you and what better time to start it then the New Year.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

Your heart was racing as you met his joyful gaze. You could feel the butterflies swirling in your stomach as the seconds ticked down to midnight.

“Four! Three! Two!”

As the clock stroked midnight, everything seemed to fall into place. Walker stepped closer, his face just inches from yours, and for a moment, the world felt still. He hesitated, then gently pressed a quick, shy kiss to your cheek.

When he pulled back, his face was flushed, but he was smiling, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Happy New Year,” Walker murmured, his voice soft as his forehead lightly rested against yours.

“Happy New Year,” you replied, your heart racing, knowing this was the start of something special.

A/N: hope u all enjoyed lmk any feedback u may have thank u.

Tags: @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092

[astrxq]

Stage Light, Palace Light .II

jacaerys velaryon x theatre!reader

words: 10.8k

notes: tumblr won’t let me post this as a full fic so i’m dividing in half… though i think that kind of takes away from the whole thing, it’s the only way for me to post it :(( i hope the length doesn’t scare you away 😭

content!!: jacaerys secretly attends a theater in town, disguised as a commoner. captivated by a fearless and enchanting penniless actress, he asks for a private reading of one of her plays for a chance to see her again. — luke is alive in this, notttt following canon events obviously.

both parts will be posted simultaneously!! so you don’t have to wait for me to upload it if you want to read it :) — [tap here for part 1!]

Through the castle's stained glass windows, the moon cast fractured patterns across Jacaerys's chambers. He sat at his desk, turning the sapphire ring over and over in his hands, watching how the moonlight caught in its facets. The familiar weight of it felt wrong now, tainted by the memory of your fingers pressing it into his palm.

A soft knock at his door made him start, quickly slipping the ring onto his finger. "Enter," he called, his voice rougher than intended.

Lucerys's familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway. "Well, this is new," his brother said lightly, though his eyes were sharp with concern. "You're actually in your chambers at this hour? I had to check twice to make sure I had the right room."

Jacaerys didn't respond, his thumb absently running over the dragon engravings on his ring. Lucerys's casual stance shifted, and he closed the door behind him with deliberate care.

"Jace?" he asked, dropping the teasing tone. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Jacaerys replied automatically, the practiced lie tasting bitter on his tongue. "I'm just tired."

Lucerys crossed the room, settling into the chair across from his brother's desk. "You've been 'just tired' all day. Barely touched your food at dinner. Haven't gone near the stables." He paused, studying Jacaerys's face in the moonlight. "Haven't sneaked out to wherever it is you've been disappearing to for the past months."

Jacaerys's hands stilled on the ring. He seemed to think for a second. “Yeah, just tired.”

“It blew up on your face, didn’t it?”

Jacaerys flinched at his brother's words, his fingers tightening reflexively around the ring. The moonlight caught his profile, highlighting the shadows under his eyes and the tension in his jaw.

"That obvious, was it?" he asked, his voice hollow.

Lucerys leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Only to someone who's been covering for you."

He watched as Jacaerys resumed fidgeting with the ring. In the dim light, it took him a moment to recognize the glint of their house seal on the sapphire ring.

"So that's where it went," Lucerys said softly, letting the door close behind him. "I thought you'd lost it."

Jacaerys didn't look up, his fingers still tracing the dragon engravings. "I did lose it," he said, his voice rough. "She found it."

Lucerys stilled. There was no need to ask who 'she' was – he'd watched his brother sneak out enough nights to guess. "Ah," he said carefully, moving to lean against the window frame.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft scrape of metal against metal as Jacaerys continued to turn the ring.

"She gave it back," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Pressed it into my hand like it was burning her." He let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Told me to go home. To go back where I belong."

Lucerys watched his brother carefully, noting how his shoulders curved inward, how his normally perfect posture had crumbled.

"It was always coming, wasn't it?" Lucerys said softly, though there was sympathy in his voice. "You did lie to her, after all."

"You're not helping," Jacaerys snapped, the words sharper than he'd intended. His hands were white-knuckled around the ring now, the dragon engravings surely leaving marks in his palm.

"I'm not trying to help," Lucerys replied, moving closer to rest a hand on his brother's tense shoulder. "I'm trying to understand. All these months, what did you think would happen?"

Jacaerys shrugged off his brother's touch, standing abruptly. The moonlight caught his face, revealing the raw anguish there. "I didn't think," he admitted, his voice cracking. "I just... I wanted to be near her. To be someone who could be near her."

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Gods, you should have seen her face when she realized. Like I'd broken something irreparable."

Jacaerys dropped his hands, staring unseeing at the moonlit patterns on his desk. "She called me 'Your Grace' at the end. Like she was trying to remind herself who I really was." His voice turned bitter. "Who I've always been, apparently."

Lucerys was quiet for a long moment, watching his brother's reflection in the glass. "What was she like?" he finally asked. "When you were just Jace to her?"

The question seemed to physically pain Jacaerys. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, his breath fogging the surface.

The raw longing in his voice made Lucerys's chest ache for his brother. "And now?"

"Now she looks at me like I'm exactly what I am," Jacaerys said bitterly. "A liar. A prince. A fool who thought he could have something real in a life built on pretense."

Lucerys watched as his brother's fingers pressed against the window pane, leaving ghostly prints in the condensation. "She taught me her lines sometimes," Jacaerys said, his voice distant. "Said I had a gift for tragedy." A broken laugh escaped him. "I suppose she was right about that."

"Jace..." Lucerys started, but his brother wasn't finished.

"She tried to be so proper about it, so careful. 'My prince' this and 'Your Grace' that, like she was trying to build walls between us with every title." His forehead pressed harder against the window. "I think I preferred it when she was angry."

"Was she?"

"For a moment. But then she just looked... sad." Jacaerys turned suddenly, his eyes bright in the darkness.

"She has this laugh," he continued, "when something genuinely surprises her. Not the polite one she uses for the audience, but this bright, startled sound. And when she's really focused on something, she bites her lower lip, right at the corner..." His voice cracked. "Gods, Luke, what am I supposed to do?"

"You know what you have to do," Lucerys said gently. "What you've always had to do."

Jacaerys's forehead pressed harder against the glass.

"Brother..." Lucerys stepped closer, but Jacaerys waved him off.

"I can still feel her hands," he whispered, staring down at his own trembling fingers. "When she gave the ring back. She was so gentle about it, even then. Like she was afraid of hurting me, after everything I'd done to her." A ragged laugh escaped him. "She even fixed my cloak before sending me away. 'It's not safe for a prince to be out so late,'" he mimicked, his voice cracking on the words.

"You're going to make yourself sick," Lucerys observed quietly, noting how his brother's shoulders shook.

"Maybe I deserve to be," Jacaerys replied, but there was no heat in it, just a bone-deep exhaustion. He slumped back into his chair, the moonlight casting harsh shadows across his face.

Lucerys watched his brother for a long moment, then sighed softly. "I'll tell mother you've caught something," he said, moving to perch on the edge of the desk. "A fever or stomach ailment. Something that'll keep you out of court for a few days at least."

Jacaerys looked up sharply. "You don't have to–"

"Please," Lucerys cut him off with a wry smile. "You look wretched enough that no one would question it. And those tedious trade negotiations with the Iron Bank representatives can survive without you staring miserably into space."

"I wouldn't–"

"You would. You are." Lucerys gestured to where Jacaerys's fingers still worried at the ring. "Besides, I doubt anyone wants to hear your thoughts on maritime tariffs when you're like this. You'd probably accidentally start a war just to have something else to be miserable about."

That earned him a ghost of a smile, though it faded quickly. "The maesters will want to examine me," Jacaerys pointed out.

"Let me handle them." Lucerys waved a dismissive hand. "I'll tell them you've got that stomach bug that's been going around the kitchens. No one wants to get too close to that." He paused, studying his brother's drawn face. "Take a few days, Jace. Get some sleep. Stop turning that ring before you wear through it."

Jacaerys's hands stilled, though he didn't let go of the ring. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Don't thank me yet," Lucerys replied, standing. "I'm still going to make you tell me everything about her eventually. When you're ready." He moved toward the door, then paused.

"And Jace? Try to actually sleep, would you? Brooding in moonlight might suit your current mood, but you look terrible."

"Thanks," Jacaerys said dryly, but there was genuine gratitude in his voice.

Once the door closed behind his brother, Jacaerys turned back to the window. The moon had shifted, casting new patterns across his chambers, but he barely noticed. His mind was still in a torch-lit theater, replaying the gentle pressure of your hands as you straightened his cloak one last time.

***

The days blurred together in Jacaerys's chambers, marked only by the rotating cast of concerned visitors. His mother would sweep in each morning, her silks rustling as she pressed a cool hand to his forehead, murmuring about his pallor. The maesters followed with their endless questions and concoctions, puzzling over symptoms they couldn't quite identify. None of them recognized the way his eyes kept straying to the window, to the city beyond where a certain theater's torches would be lighting for the evening performance.

Lucerys was the only one who didn't try to diagnose him, who simply sat in comfortable silence or brought books from the library that went unread. Sometimes he'd catch his brother staring at that sapphire ring and start talking about mundane castle gossip, a transparent but appreciated attempt at distraction.

Meanwhile, across the city, the theater carried on as it always had. You moved through your performances with practiced grace, delivering your lines perfectly, but something felt hollow now.

Each night, your eyes would drift to that shadowed corner where he used to sit, and each night you'd feel foolish for looking. The seat remained empty – not by design, simply by chance – but it felt like a physical presence, a reminder of everything that couldn't be.

Sometimes, during quiet moments between scenes, you'd catch yourself listening for familiar footsteps that never came. Your hand would brush against a dog-eared script, and you'd remember how he'd help you practice, the way his voice would shift with each character. The memory would make you pause, make your chest tight with an emotion you refused to name.

You told yourself it was selfish to miss him, to hope that somehow he'd appear in those shadows again. After all, hadn't you been the one to send him away? Hadn't you been right to do so? But still, each night, your eyes would search the crowd, and each night, that empty seat seemed to mock you with possibilities that could never be.

In his chambers, Jacaerys would press his forehead against the cool glass of his window, knowing that somewhere out there, you were performing. He wondered if you still bit your lip when concentrating on a difficult scene, if you still gestured with your scripts when explaining something passionate. He wondered if you thought of him at all, or if you'd already begun the process of forgetting the false dock worker who'd turned out to be a prince.

The week crawled by, measured in missed performances and untouched meals, in concerned looks and knowing silences. In the end, you were both right – it was impossible, it could never work, it had to end this way. But knowing that didn't stop either of you from searching – him through his window, you through your crowds – for something you knew you wouldn't find.

Lucerys had always been the softer of the brothers – both in appearance and temperament. Where Jacaerys had inherited their father's sharp features and commanding presence, Lucerys's face held a gentler cast, his smile coming easier, his manner more approachable. He was the one who smoothed ruffled feathers at court, who knew all the servants' names, who could talk his way out of trouble with nothing but charm and well-placed sympathy.

And he was also, notably, the one who meddled.

Which was precisely what he was doing now, standing before his mirror and adjusting a dark cloak that was decidedly less fine than his usual attire. His chambers were quiet save for the soft rustle of fabric as he secured the clasp, mentally reviewing the path through the castle that would draw the least attention. He'd spent enough time covering for Jacaerys's excursions to know exactly which guards were amenable to looking the other way, which corridors were least patrolled at this hour.

The Jacaerys he knew would have at least tried to sneak out by now, would have found some excuse to pass by the theater, even if just to torture himself with a glimpse. But instead, he'd spent the week alternating between staring out his window and turning that sapphire ring over and over in his hands, barely eating, barely sleeping.

No, this wouldn't do at all. And if Jacaerys wouldn't go to the theater, well... Lucerys tugged his hood lower, checking his reflection one last time. Someone would have to go in his stead.

After all, what were younger brothers for, if not to meddle in matters of the heart?

From his hidden vantage point in the shadows – the same corner his brother had haunted for months – Lucerys watched you command the stage. It took him less than a minute to understand why Jacaerys had been so thoroughly captivated. You moved with a natural grace that had nothing to do with practiced choreography, your voice carrying to every corner of the room without losing its intimate quality.

Your eyes would drift to this shadowed corner, just for a moment, before you caught yourself and looked away. It was such a small thing, so quick most wouldn't notice, but Lucerys saw how your smile would falter slightly afterward, how your hands would fidget with your scripts in a gesture that seemed born of recent habit.

He recognized the look in your eyes – he'd seen its mirror in Jacaerys's chambers all week. The same careful mask of composure, the same barely concealed longing, the same hurt trying to disguise itself as acceptance.

You nearly missed your cue when you first spotted the cloaked figure, your heart leaping traitorously before you caught the subtle differences – the softer jaw, the way he held himself without that familiar tension. When he shifted and scratched his cheek, revealing features that echoed Jacaerys' but didn't quite match, you knew exactly who had come to your theater.

As the last remnants of the audience filtered out, their conversations fading into the night, you moved through your familiar closing routine. Scripts needed to be gathered, props returned to their places, torches extinguished one by one. It was methodical work, the kind that usually helped quiet your mind after a performance.

But lately, each task seemed to carry its own weight of memory – the way he would help you sort the pages, how he'd lean against that column while you checked the props, his quiet laugh when you'd dramatically recite lines while cleaning.

You were reaching for a fallen script when you felt it – that familiar presence in the shadows. The quality of the silence was wrong, the weight of the presence slightly off. Still, you kept your back turned, your fingers gripping the script too tightly as you spoke.

"You know, for someone raised in a castle, you Targaryens have a terrible habit of lurking in shadows."

There was a soft exhale behind you – not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh – and you knew immediately it wasn't Jacaerys. This breath carried a different cadence, a lighter note.

"Ah," came a voice that was similar to his but softer around the edges, "I suppose some habits run in the family."

You turned then, slowly, to find a figure standing where Jacaerys used to wait. The hood was the same, the stance similar, but everything else was just slightly different – like looking at a familiar painting that had been done by a different hand.

"Prince Lucerys," you said softly, without hesitation.

You'd heard of him at public events, of course – the gentler brother, the one who could charm a crowd with a smile. He looked the same as Jacaerys, only with softened features which made it obvious he was younger.

Your hands fidgeted with the script, an unconscious echo of nervousness. "I assume you're not here to audition."

He pushed back his hood, his smile was apologetic, but his eyes were sharp with assessment.

"No," he agreed, staying where he was as if afraid of spooking you. "Though I must say, I understand now why my brother spent so many nights here. You're quite captivating on stage."

You turned away, busying yourself with straightening already-neat piles of parchment. "If you're here about Jacaerys–"

"He doesn't know I'm here," Lucerys interrupted gently. "In fact, he'd probably be furious if he knew. He's spent the week in his chambers, supposedly ill with some mysterious ailment that has the maesters quite confused."

Your hands stilled on the papers. "I'm sorry to hear he's unwell," you said carefully, your voice steady despite the way your heart clenched. "But I'm not sure what that has to do with me."

"Isn't it obvious?" Lucerys's voice was kind, almost too kind. "He's not sick. He's heartbroken."

You closed your eyes briefly, willing your voice to remain neutral. "That's hardly my concern anymore, Your Grace."

"Please," he said, "if you're going to break my brother's heart, you might as well call me Lucerys."

When you faced him again, Lucerys's expression held none of the accusation you'd feared. Instead, there was something almost sad in his smile, like he was watching a tragedy unfold on stage.

"I didn't–" you started, then stopped, unsure how to finish that sentence. Didn't mean to? Didn't want to? Both felt like lies, and you'd had enough of those lately.

"I know," Lucerys said softly. "Neither did he." He moved closer, but carefully, like approaching a nervous animal. "He's been staring out his window for days, you know. Always in the direction of the theater. Turning that ring over and over until I thought he'd wear a groove in it."

Your throat tightened at the image. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I've never seen my brother like this before." Lucerys's voice was quiet but intent. "He's always been the perfect prince – duty first, propriety above all. Until you." He tilted his head, studying you. "Do you know what he said to me? That you taught him how to laugh. How to be human."

You turned away sharply, but not before he caught the flash of pain across your face. "It doesn't matter what he said. What either of us said. Some things are impossible."

"Impossible?" Lucerys repeated thoughtfully. "Or just difficult?"

"Both," you said firmly, though your voice wavered slightly. "He's a prince, I'm a–"

"A remarkably talented performer who made my brother happier than I've ever seen him," Lucerys interrupted. "Who, if I'm not mistaken, misses him just as much as he misses you."

"That's not fair," you whispered.

"No," he agreed softly. "None of this is fair. But I'm not here to talk about what's fair. I'm here because my brother hasn't eaten properly in days, because he looks at that ring like it's both salvation and torture, because he keeps whispering your lines to himself when he thinks no one can hear."

A bitter laugh escaped you, though it sounded more like a sob. "The night he lost the ring..." You shook your head, turning back to face Lucerys. "He was already pulling away. Even before I found it, he was... distant. Guilty. Like he'd finally remembered who he was, who I..." You swallowed hard. "It was so easy to believe he'd just wanted some fun with a common girl. A story to tell his noble friends about the theater performer he'd charmed."

Lucerys's face softened with understanding. "That's what you thought? That he was just..."

"What else was I supposed to think?" Your voice cracked slightly. "He was withdrawing, making excuses, before he even knew I had the found his ring." Your fingers twisted in your skirts.

"He was scared," Lucerys said quietly. "Not of you finding out, exactly, but of losing you once you did. He'd convinced himself that the moment you knew who he really was, everything would change."

A sad smile crossed his face. "I suppose he was right about that, at least."

"Everything did change," you whispered. "Because everything had been a lie."

"Was it?" Lucerys asked, his voice gentle but challenging.

You pressed your lips together, fighting back the sting in your eyes. "It doesn't matter if they were. A prince can't... we can't..."

"Can't what?" Lucerys pressed. "Can't care for each other? Can't find moments of happiness in each other's company?" He paused, watching you carefully. "Can't love each other?"

The word hung in the air between you, making your chest ache. "Please," you said softly, "don't make this harder than it already is."

Lucerys sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture so similar to his brother's that it made your heart clench. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes distant as if working through a puzzle. Then he looked at you with renewed focus.

“What if..." he started, then paused, choosing his words carefully. "What if the castle requested a reading of one of your monologues?"

You stilled, looking at him warily. "What?"

"It wouldn't be unusual," he continued, his voice taking on that careful diplomatic tone you imagined he used in court. "The castle often hosts performers. And that piece you did tonight – the one about the warrior queen – it has historical significance. Educational value." His lips quirked. "The sort of thing that would be entirely appropriate for a royal audience."

"Are you..." You shook your head in disbelief. "Are you trying to orchestrate an official reason for me to..."

"To be in the castle? Where my brother wouldn't have to sneak around in hoods and lies?" Lucerys shrugged, but his eyes were sharp. "It would be completely proper. Above board. Just a performer doing what performers do – sharing stories with those who wish to hear them."

"My prince–"

"Lucerys," he corrected gently.

“Lucerys," you amended, "you can't possibly think that would solve anything. One performance wouldn't change who he is, or who I am, or–"

"No," he agreed. "But it might be a start. A chance to see each other in the light, without pretense." He tilted his head. "Unless you truly don't want to see him again?"

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with possibility.

***

Lucerys burst into Jacaerys's chambers with more force than necessary, finding his brother surrounded by the usual crowd of concerned maesters. The room smelled of various herbal concoctions, and Jacaerys looked thoroughly miserable as they debated his mysterious symptoms.

"Out," Lucerys commanded, channeling their mother's authoritative tone. "All of you. I need to speak with my brother."

The maesters hesitated, exchanging glances. "My prince, we haven't finished–"

"You've been 'not finished' for a week," Lucerys cut in. "And remarkably, my brother is still alive. Now out." He softened it with a diplomatic smile. "Please. Court matters."

Once the door closed behind the last grumbling maester, Lucerys turned to his brother. Jacaerys was still in bed, looking pale and disheveled, the sapphire ring glinting on his finger.

"Get up," Lucerys said, moving to Jacaerys's wardrobe and pulling out clothes.

"What?"

"Up. Now." Lucerys threw a fresh tunic at his brother's head. "You need to be dressed and presentable in the next quarter hour."

Jacaerys caught the tunic reflexively but didn't move to put it on. "Why?"

"Because," Lucerys said, now rummaging for appropriate boots, "there's going to be a performance in the great hall, and you need to look like a prince instead of a lovesick ghost."

"I'm not attending any performances," Jacaerys said flatly, though something flickered in his eyes at the word.

"Yes, you are." Lucerys threw a pair of boots beside the bed with more force than necessary. "It's a historical piece. Very educational. Mother specifically requested your presence."

"Luke–"

"And," Lucerys continued, now advancing on his brother with determined purpose, "if you don't get out of that bed right now, I will tell mother exactly why you've been 'sick' all week. I'm sure she'd love to hear about your nightly visits to the theater district."

Jacaerys stared at him, a mix of betrayal and confusion crossing his features. "You wouldn't."

"Try me." Lucerys grabbed his brother's arm, physically pulling him up. "Now get dressed. And for gods' sake, do something with your hair. You look like you've been wrestling with ravens."

"Luke, what are you–"

"Twelve minutes," Lucerys interrupted, already heading for the door. "If you're not ready by then, I'm sending the maesters back in. All of them. With their most experimental remedies."

The door closed behind him with a decisive click, leaving Jacaerys standing bewildered in the middle of his chambers, clutching a fresh tunic and wondering what exactly his brother had planned.

Jacaerys stood at the back of the great hall, tugging uncomfortably at his formal attire. The past hour had been a blur of Lucerys's insistent shepherding, servants fussing with his appearance, and his own mounting irritation. Now he lingered in the shadows – a habit he couldn't seem to break – watching as various nobles filtered in.

"Stop fidgeting," Lucerys murmured beside him. "You look like you're attending an execution rather than a performance."

"Maybe I am," Jacaerys muttered back, his fingers absently finding the ring on his hand. "My execution, if Mother realizes I'm not actually sick."

"You'll thank me later."

"Doubtful." Jacaerys leaned against a column, falling into the familiar melancholy that had haunted him all week. Even the grand hall's usual splendor seemed dulled, the afternoon light filtering through the high windows doing nothing to lift his spirits. His mind kept drifting to another performance space, torch-lit and intimate, where—

The great doors opened, and two members of the Kingsguard entered. Jacaerys barely glanced up, used to the ceremonial display of court life. But then he caught a glimpse of who they were escorting, and his whole world tilted on its axis.

You stood between the guards, clutching a script in hands that trembled slightly. You wore your best performance dress, your hair arranged more formally than he'd ever seen it, but you were unmistakably, achingly you. The afternoon sun caught you differently than torchlight had, making you look both familiar and strange, like a dream he'd had too many times to count.

His breath caught audibly, making Lucerys smirk beside him.

"Luke," he whispered, his voice rough with panic and something else entirely, "what did you do?"

But Lucerys just smiled, watching as you were formally announced to the court. Your eyes hadn't found Jacaerys yet, fixed carefully on some middle distance as you followed the guards' lead. But your fingers worried at the corner of your script in that familiar way that made Jacaerys's chest ache.

"Breathe, brother," Lucerys murmured, noting how Jacaerys's hands had gone white-knuckled on his chair's armrests. "She's here to perform the warrior queen's monologue. Very educational. Historical significance and all that."

"I'm going to kill you," Jacaerys breathed, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. You looked so out of place and yet so perfectly right, like a character from one of your plays stepped into reality.

And then you looked up, your eyes finally meeting his across the great hall. The script trembled visibly in your hands for just a moment before you steadied yourself. Something passed between you in that look – recognition, longing, fear, hope – all wrapped in the formal distance required by your surroundings.

Jacaerys forgot to breathe entirely.

"Kill me later," Lucerys said softly, satisfaction clear in his voice.

"For now, just watch. And breathe, for gods' sake, before you actually do need those maesters."

But Jacaerys barely heard him. He was too caught up in the way you held yourself – proud despite your obvious nervousness, every inch the performer even in these overwhelming surroundings. You looked different in the daylight, more vulnerable somehow, but also stronger. The sun caught the subtle tremor in your hands as you opened your script, a gesture he'd seen a hundred times in candlelight.

A hush fell over the hall as you began to speak. Your voice carried differently here than in the theater, the acoustics grander, but the emotion in your words was just as intimate. It was the warrior queen's monologue – the one you'd practiced with him late one night, when he'd read the opposing lines and you'd laughed at his terrible attempts at different voices.

He knew every word, every pause, every subtle shift in your expression. But watching you now, in the harsh light of reality rather than the forgiving shadows of the theater, felt like seeing you for the first time all over again. You weren't just performing for the court – you were commanding the space, making the grand hall feel as intimate as your small stage had been.

His fingers found the ring again, tracing its familiar edges. You reached a particular line – one where you always bit your lip slightly before delivering it – and his breath caught again as you did exactly that, the gesture so achingly familiar it hurt.

"Stop looking at her like that," Lucerys whispered. "People will notice."

"How else am I supposed to look at her?" Jacaerys breathed back, not taking his eyes off you.

"Like a prince watching a performance," Lucerys replied. "Not like a man watching his heart perform in front of the entire court."

But it was too late for that kind of pretense. Because you'd reached the climax of the monologue – the part where your voice always carried a particular kind of raw honesty – and your eyes found his again, just for a moment. In that look was everything: the nights in the theater, the weight of secrets, the gentle press of your fingers returning his ring, the impossible distance between who you both were and who you'd pretended to be.

And Jacaerys knew, with sudden, crushing clarity, that he would never be able to look at you any other way.

Queen Rhaenyra leaned forward slightly in her seat, her eyes bright with genuine interest as your performance drew to a close. The great hall remained silent for a heartbeat after your final words, before breaking into appropriate, measured applause.

"Remarkable," she murmured, her voice carrying that particular tone that made both her sons tense slightly. "To memorize such a lengthy piece..." She turned to Jacaerys, and there was something knowing in her smile that made his stomach drop. "Wouldn't you agree, sweetling?"

Jacaerys forced himself to meet his mother's gaze, though he could feel Lucerys shifting nervously beside him. "Yes," he managed, his voice steadier than he felt.

"The theater district has always produced exceptional talent," Lucerys offered smoothly, but Rhaenyra's attention remained on her eldest son.

"Indeed," she said softly. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth as she watched Jacaerys's fingers unconsciously find his ring again.

He forced himself to meet her gaze, finding not the judgment he feared but something softer, more knowing.

"Mhmm," Rhaenyra hummed, her eyes drifting back to where you stood.

"The court always needs cultural enrichment," she said, rising gracefully. "And that was indeed an... educational performance." Her eyes met his, sharp with understanding. "Perhaps we should arrange more of them."

Your voice carried through the final lines, steady despite the way Jacaerys could see your hands trembling slightly around your script. The court burst into appreciative applause – of course they did, how could they not when you'd made the grand hall feel as intimate as a torch-lit theater? – but he barely heard it over the rushing in his ears.

You dipped into a perfect curtsy, every inch the professional performer. But as you straightened, your eyes found his again, and for a moment the carefully constructed walls of propriety cracked. There was something raw in your expression, something that made his chest ache with recognition.

"Breathe," Lucerys murmured again, nudging him slightly. "The entire court doesn't need to see you looking like you've been struck by lightning."

But how could he breathe when you were there, so close yet impossibly far, being led away by the Kingsguard as formally as you'd entered? Your back was straight, your steps measured, but he knew you well enough to see the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers still worried at the corner of your script.

"I need to–" he started, already half-rising from his seat.

Lucerys caught his arm. "Not yet," he said quietly. "Wait until the court disperses. Unless you want to cause a scene that would make both your positions more difficult?"

Jacaerys sank back down, his fingers finding the ring again. A nervous tick of his.

"Turns out," Lucerys said softly, watching as you disappeared through the great doors, "You’re not the only one who's been miserable this past week." He paused, then added, "She looks at that empty seat in the theater the same way you look out your window, you know."

Jacaerys closed his eyes briefly, the words hitting him like a physical blow.

Lucerys's words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, but they ignited something sharp in Jacaerys. His eyes snapped open, narrowing as he turned to his younger brother, who was still watching the now-closed doors with a smug, self-satisfied expression.

"You went to the theater?" Jacaerys hissed, his voice low and furious.

Lucerys barely spared him a glance, his nonchalant demeanor only fueling Jacaerys's anger. "Someone had to check on her," Lucerys replied, crossing his arms. "You certainly weren't going to."

"You had no right," Jacaerys snapped, keeping his voice low enough to avoid drawing attention but failing to mask the edge of his temper. "You don't get to meddle in this. Do you have any idea–"

"Do you?" Lucerys cut him off, his tone sharper now as he turned to face his brother fully. “I brought her here, didn’t I?”

Jacaerys stiffened, his jaw tightening. "That’s not the point, Luke. You went behind my back–"

"Because you weren’t doing anything!" Lucerys shot back, his voice rising slightly before he checked himself, glancing around the room.

"Luke..."

"She'll be escorted to the eastern solar," Lucerys continued casually, as if he hadn't just shaken his brother's entire world. "To rest after her performance. It's only proper to offer refreshments to our honored performers, after all." He stood, stretching deliberately. "The guard rotation changes in about ten minutes. Just in case you were wondering, though I bet you knew that already."

With that, he left Jacaerys alone with his thoughts, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the great hall as the court slowly emptied around him.

Jacaerys found himself standing outside the eastern solar far too soon and not soon enough. His heart hammered against his ribs as he noted the momentarily empty corridor – Lucerys's timing, no doubt. The same patterns of afternoon light that had caught in your hair during the performance now spilled across the floor at his feet, making patterns that reminded him of torch shadows.

He raised his hand to knock, then hesitated. What could he possibly say? 'I'm sorry' felt inadequate. 'I miss you' felt too raw. 'You were magnificent' felt too formal. All of them felt like poor substitutes for the tangle of emotions in his chest.

Before he could decide, the door opened, and suddenly you were there. You must have heard his footsteps, must have been waiting. You wore the same dress from the performance, but your hair had started to escape its formal arrangement, soft wisps falling around your face in a way that made his fingers itch to brush them back.

For a long moment, you just stared at each other. The silence stretched between you, heavy with everything unsaid.

"My prince," you finally murmured, dropping into a curtsy that felt like a blade between his ribs.

"Don't," he whispered, the word rough in his throat. "Please, not you. Not after..." He gestured helplessly, unable to find words for what he meant. Not after you'd known him as just Jace, not after you'd laughed with him in shadows, not after you'd taught him how to be human instead of just a prince.

You straightened from your curtsy but didn't meet his eyes, your fingers worrying at your script in that achingly familiar way. "I don't know what else to call you anymore."

"My name," he said softly. "Just... just my name. Like before."

Your eyes finally met his, and the raw honesty there made his breath catch.

“How are you?" he asked softly, the question feeling simultaneously inadequate and overwhelming. He wanted to ask so much more – how had your week been, did you still bite your lip when practicing new lines, did you miss him as desperately as he missed you?

You let out a small, bitter laugh. "I'm..." Your fingers traced the edge of your script. "I've been better. The theater feels... different now."

"Different how?" His voice was barely above a whisper, afraid to break whatever fragile moment this was.

"Emptier," you admitted, then seemed to regret the honesty. "Though that's foolish, isn't it? It's not as if we ever sold out performances. One empty seat shouldn't matter."

"But it does," he said quietly, understanding exactly what you meant. His fingers found the ring again, a habit he couldn't seem to break. You noticed the movement, your eyes following it before quickly looking away.

Your eyes lingered on where his fingers traced the ring before you forced them away. "I suppose it does," you said softly. "Though it shouldn't. Just like I shouldn't keep expecting to turn around and find you in the shadows."

"I wanted to come back," he admitted, his voice rough. "Every night this week, I've stood at my window, thinking about how easy it would be to just..."

"Put on a hood and pretend?" There was no bite to your words, just a quiet sadness. "We can't go back to that, Jacaerys. You know we can't”

The sound of his name on your lips made his chest ache. "I know. But I miss..." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "I miss how you'd gesture with your scripts when you were excited about a scene. How you'd laugh when I tried different voices for the characters. How you–“

"Please don't," you whispered, but he continued anyway, the words spilling out like he couldn't stop them.

"How you'd bite your lip right before a difficult line – like you did today, with the warrior queen's speech. How you'd let me help you practice, even though I was terrible at it. How you made me forget about titles and duties and just feel..."

"Real?" you offered quietly, and he nodded, the simple word capturing everything he'd been trying to say.

"You were the most real thing in my life," he said, taking a step closer. "Are. The most real thing."

You didn't step back, but your fingers tightened on your script. "And what good does that do us? Being real doesn't change who you are, or who I am, or what's possible between us."

"Doesn't it?" He was close enough now to see the subtle tremor in your hands, to catch the faint scent of stage powder that always clung to your clothes. "You're here now, in the castle. Properly, formally. No hiding, no lies."

"For one performance," you reminded him gently. "One afternoon of pretending we're not what we are – a prince and a common performer who forgot their places for a while."

"Is that all it was to you?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "Just forgetting our places?"

Your eyes met his, and the honesty there made his heart stutter. "You know it wasn't," you whispered. "But sometimes knowing that makes it worse."

He wanted to reach for you, to brush back those escaped strands of hair, to remember how it felt to be close without the weight of titles between you. But he kept his hands at his sides, one thumb still absently tracing the ring.

"I dream about you," he admitted softly. "About the theater, about your laugh, about... about everything we could have been if I'd just been honest from the start."

"And what would that have changed?" you asked, but your voice wavered slightly. "Would it have made me more suitable? Made the court more accepting? Made any of this possible?"

"Maybe not," he conceded. "But at least it would have been real from the beginning. At least we could have faced it together, instead of..."

"Instead of me finding out from a ring?" The words were quiet but they hit home, making him flinch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Gods, I'm so sorry. I never meant..."

"I know you didn't," you said softly. "That's what makes it harder. Nothing about this was meant to hurt anyone, and yet..."

You took a shaky breath, taking a small step back. The afternoon light caught the unshed tears in your eyes, making them shine. "And yet here we are," you said softly, "still hurting each other by wanting impossible things."

"They don't have to be impossible," he said, but even he could hear the desperation in his voice. "We could..."

"Could what?" Your smile was gentle but heartbreaking. "Could meet in shadows forever? Could pretend that duty and birth and responsibility don't exist?" You shook your head. "You're a prince, Jacaerys. A good one. The kind who puts his people first, who understands duty, who..." Your voice caught. "Who shouldn't be asked to choose between his birthright and a common girl who performs in torchlight."

"Don't," he whispered, "don't talk about yourself like that."

"Like what? Like the truth?" You gestured to your performance dress, to the grand solar around you. "Look at where we are. Look at how many plans and schemes it took just for me to be here properly, just for one afternoon." Your fingers brushed his sleeve, so lightly he might have imagined it. "You belong in sunlight, my prince. Not hiding in theater shadows."

"I belong with you," he said roughly, but you were already shaking your head.

"No," you said softly. "You belong to your people, to your duty, to your name. And I..." You smiled, though it trembled at the edges. "I belong to my stories, to my stage, to the world we create in torchlight."

He reached for you then, unable to stop himself, but you stepped back. "Please," he whispered, though he wasn't sure what he was begging for.

He caught your wrist just as you were turning away, his touch feather-light. The guards would be returning any moment, but he couldn't let you leave, not yet, not like this.

"Would it be terribly improper," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, "for a theater performer to give the prince a goodbye kiss?"

You stilled, your back still to him, and for a moment he thought you would refuse. But then you turned, slowly, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of longing and resignation that made his chest ache.

“Terribly," you murmured, but you were already reaching for him, your fingers ghosting along his jaw. "Absolutely forbidden."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. "I won't tell if you won't."

Your laugh was soft and broken, but then your lips were on his, gentle and desperate all at once. It was different from your kiss in the town’s shadows – more bitter, more final. He could taste the salt of tears, though he wasn't sure if they were yours or his.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer for just a moment, memorizing the feeling of you against him one last time. Your fingers curled into his formal clothes, and he felt the script press between you, a reminder of everything that separated you.

The kiss ended too soon, both of you aware of the approaching sound of armored footsteps. You pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against his, your breath shaky.

And then you were gone, slipping back into the solar and closing the door between you just as the guards rounded the corner.

Jacaerys touched his fingers to his lips, where he could still taste the bittersweet mix of your kiss and your tears. The guards nodded respectfully as they passed, never knowing that they'd just missed watching a prince's heart break in the afternoon sun.

He turned from the solar, still touching his lips, only to nearly collide with his mother. Her silver hair caught the afternoon light, her expression curious as she steadied him.

"Careful, my love," she said, then peered past him toward the solar door. "Has our performer already left? I wanted to congratulate her personally. That warrior queen monologue was quite moving."

Jacaerys struggled to compose his features, though he knew his mother's sharp eyes missed little. "I believe she's still..." his voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "She's still inside, yes."

His mother's gaze sharpened, taking in his flushed face, the slight redness around his eyes, the way his fingers kept straying to his lips. "Feeling better, I see," she said carefully.

"Much better," he managed, though the words felt like ash in his mouth. "The maesters were very... thorough."

His mother studied him for a long moment, her eyes lingering on where his thumb was absently tracing his ring. Something flickered across her face – understanding, perhaps, or memory – but she simply smiled and patted his cheek.

"I'm glad," she said softly. "Though perhaps you should rest a bit more. You still look... unwell." There was a gentleness in her voice that made his throat tight, a careful kindness in how she didn't mention the obvious tears in his eyes or the tremor in his hands.

"Thank you, Mother," he whispered, grateful for her pretense, for allowing him this small dignity in his heartbreak.

She squeezed his arm once, then moved past him toward the solar door.

Then she was gone, slipping into the solar to congratulate the performer who had so moved the court, leaving Jacaerys alone in the corridor with the ghost of your kiss on his lips and his mother's words echoing in his ears.

He touched his mouth one last time, then forced his hand down to his side. The afternoon sun continued to spill through the windows, indifferent to how it had witnessed both a kiss and a farewell, both a beginning and an end.

Somewhere behind that closed door, you were probably curtsying to his mother, probably hiding your own tears behind proper words and formal gestures. And he would never know, because some moments couldn't last, no matter how desperately you wished they could.

***

The light was fading from Jacaerys's chambers, but he hadn't bothered to light any candles. He sat in his window seat, absently watching his younger brothers play on the floor with their wooden dragons. Aegon was making elaborate swooping noises while Viserys carefully arranged his army of carved soldiers.

The door opened quietly, and their mother's familiar silhouette appeared. Queen Rhaenyra smiled at the sight of her youngest sons sprawled across the floor, their games having thoroughly disrupted the usual order of the chamber.

"Mother!" Viserys called out, abandoning his soldiers to run to her. She caught him easily, pressing a kiss to his dark curls.

"My little dragons," she said warmly, then looked up at where Jacaerys sat, still staring out the window. The same window, she noted, that faced the direction of the theater district. "Jace?"

He turned slightly at his name, though his fingers continued to trace the sapphire ring. "Yes, Mother?"

Rhaenyra studied him for a moment, taking in the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. "Walk with me?" she asked softly.

Aegon looked up from his dragons, his young face scrunching in concern. "But Jace was going to tell us about the warrior queen! He promised!"

"Later, little one," Rhaenyra said, giving Jacaerys a meaningful look. "Your brother and I need to discuss some matters of court."

Jacaerys stood slowly, like every movement cost him effort. As he passed his brothers, he ruffled Aegon's hair, managing a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll tell you the story tonight," he promised. "All about the queen who had to choose between her heart and her crown."

Rhaenyra's expression softened at his words, and she held out her arm for him to take. Together, they left the chamber, leaving the younger princes to their games and wooden dragons, unaware of the real dragons that sometimes had to sacrifice their hearts for duty.

Jacaerys walked beside his mother through the sun-dappled corridors, his heart still heavy in his chest. She kept a leisurely pace, her silver hair catching the light as she spoke.

"You know," she said casually, as if discussing the weather, "mothers have a particular talent for knowing when their sons are lying." She cast him a sideways glance. "Even when those sons think themselves quite clever about it."

Jacaerys's steps faltered slightly. "Mother–"

"Your brother, for instance," she continued, her lips quirking in amusement, "is not nearly as accomplished at deception as he believes. He told me so many times that you were ill, I half expected to find you on your deathbed." She paused, her voice softening. "Instead, I found you sneaking out to the theater district nearly every night."

He stopped walking entirely, his face draining of color. "You knew?"

"My love," she said gently, turning to face him, "Did you think the town guards wouldn't recognize you, even in the dark?" Her eyes were kind as she studied his stricken expression. "Though I must admit, I didn't realize quite why you were so drawn to that particular theater until today."

Jacaerys closed his eyes briefly, his fingers fidgeting again. "I never meant to…”

"Lie?" His mother's voice held no accusation, only a soft understanding that somehow made it worse. "No, I don't suppose you did. Sometimes the heart leads us to do foolish things, even with the best intentions."

She reached up, smoothing an errant strand of hair from his face in a motherly gesture that made his throat tight. "Though next time," she added with a hint of wry humor, "perhaps don't make your brother work quite so hard to cover for you. The poor boy nearly tied himself in knots trying to explain your mysterious ailment to the maesters."

Jacaerys felt a flush of shame creep up his neck. "I'll apologize to Luke," he murmured. "I shouldn't have involved him."

"No," Rhaenyra agreed, though her eyes held a glimmer of amusement. "Though I suspect he rather enjoyed the intrigue of it all." She began walking again, drawing him alongside her. "Tell me about her."

The words caught in his throat. He'd spent so many nights watching her on stage, memorizing every gesture, every lilting note of her voice, and yet now he found himself struggling to capture her essence in words.

"She's..." Jacaerys started, then faltered, unsure how to describe the way you made torchlight feel like sunlight, how you could make a cramped theater feel like the grandest hall in the realm. "She's remarkable," he finished softly.

"Yes," Rhaenyra agreed, a small smile playing at her lips. "I rather thought so myself when I spoke with her." She glanced at her son, noting how he tensed at her words. "She was quite composed, you know. Though her cheeks were rather flushed, and her eyes..." She paused delicately. "Well, they matched yours in their redness."

Jacaerys's fingers tightened around his ring. "Did she seem..."

"Heartbroken?" Rhaenyra supplied gently. "Yes. Though she tried admirably to hide it behind proper courtesies and formal words." She squeezed his arm. "She has a strength about her, your performer. Even in grief, she carried herself with dignity."

"She's not mine," Jacaerys whispered, the words raw in his throat.

"No," his mother agreed softly. "Though I suspect she wishes she could be, as much as you wish you could be hers."

She stopped walking, turning to face him fully. "You know, when I went to congratulate her, she was standing by the window, touching her lips." Her eyes held a knowing sadness. "Much like you were when I found you in the corridor.”

Jacaerys felt heat rise to his face, but his mother only smiled.

"She spoke beautifully of the theater," Rhaenyra continued. "Of the magic of stories, of how a simple stage can become a battlefield or a lover's garden or a storm-tossed ship." Her voice softened. "She reminded me rather a lot of myself at that age – so certain that duty and heart could never align, so resigned to choosing between them."

"Did they?" Jacaerys asked quietly. "Align?"

Rhaenyra's smile held centuries of understanding. "Sometimes," she said. "When we're very lucky, or very brave, or both." She reached up to cup his cheek. "The realm needs its stories, my love. Its theaters, its performers, its moments of magic in torchlight." She paused meaningfully. "Perhaps even its princes who understand the value of such things."

Jacaerys stared at his mother, hardly daring to hope he understood her meaning. "Mother?"

"The court does need cultural enrichment," she said carefully. "And it would be a shame to let such talent remain hidden in the lower town, wouldn't it?" Her eyes sparkled with something that looked suspiciously like mischief. "Though perhaps next time, we might arrange it without quite so many elaborate deceptions and mysterious illnesses."

For the first time in days, Jacaerys felt something like hope flutter in his chest. "You mean..."

"I mean that there are many ways to serve the realm," Rhaenyra said softly. "And many ways to honor both duty and heart, if one is clever enough to find them." She squeezed his arm. "Though perhaps we might start with properly introducing your performer to the court, rather than having her sneak in through side doors?"

Jacaerys let out a breath that was half laugh, half sob. "I don't deserve your understanding."

"No," his mother agreed, her eyes twinkling. "But you have it anyway. That's rather the point of being a mother." She began walking again, drawing him alongside her. "Now, tell me more about these performances of hers. I found her warrior queen quite compelling – though I suspect you found all of them equally so?"

As they walked through the fading sunlight, Jacaerys began to tell his mother about torchlit evenings and practiced lines, about the magic of stories and the girl who brought them to life. And if his voice caught sometimes, or if his fingers still worried at his ring, Rhaenyra pretended not to notice, content to let her son's heart begin its slow journey from breaking to healing to, perhaps, hope.

***

The whispers started the moment his horse's hooves touched the cobblestones of the theater district. Faces appeared in windows, merchants paused mid-transaction, and children stopped their games to stare openly at the prince riding through their streets in broad daylight.

No hood this time. No shadows to hide in. The sun caught the sapphire of his ring as he dismounted, the same deep blue as the formal clothes that marked him unmistakably as Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

The theater looked different in daylight. Smaller, perhaps, though no less beloved. The morning light caught the faded paint of its facade, highlighting worn spots he'd never noticed in the torchlight. The poster from your last performance still clung to the wall, the edges curling slightly in the breeze.

He could hear your voice before he even reached the door – not performing, but running lines to yourself the way you always did during morning rehearsals. The sound made his heart stutter in his chest.

The door was unlocked, as it always was during rehearsal hours. He paused with his hand on the handle, remembering all the times he'd slipped in through the back entrance, hood drawn close. But that wasn't who he was today. Today, he was exactly who he was meant to be.

The hinges creaked – they always had, though the sound seemed louder now – and your voice cut off mid-line.

You stood center stage, script in hand, frozen in the shaft of sunlight that streamed through the high windows. Your practice dress was simpler than your performance attire, your hair loose around your shoulders the way he'd rarely got to see it. The surprise on your face would have been comical if it weren't for the way your hands started trembling.

"My prince," you breathed, already dropping into a curtsy. "I... we weren't expecting..."

He took a step forward, then another, letting the door fall closed behind him. The familiar smell of dust and wood and old velvet wrapped around him like a forgotten embrace.

"I missed morning rehearsals," he said simply.

Your laugh was shaky, uncertain. "You never attended morning rehearsals."

"No," he agreed, moving closer still. The floorboards creaked under his formal boots – so different from the soft shoes he'd worn in his disguise. "But I always wanted to."

You watched him approach, your eyes darting between his face and his clothes, lingering on the way sunlight caught his ring. "The whole district will be talking," you said softly.

"You're causing quite a scene," you murmured, nodding to where the whispers had started up again outside. "The prince, in a common theater..."

"Good," he said simply. "Let them whisper. Let them see." His voice softened. "Let them understand that their prince values more than just swords and politics – that he values stories, and art, and..." He reached up, his fingers ghosting along your cheek. "And the people who bring them to life."

Your breath caught at his touch. "Jace..." The name slipped out before you could stop it, and you immediately pressed your lips together, as if trying to take it back.

"Say it again," he whispered, his voice rough. "Please. Say my name."

You hesitated, your gaze searching his as though you might find some answer hidden in the stormy depths of his eyes. His touch was warm, grounding, and yet it set every nerve alight, a paradox you couldn’t quite reconcile.

“Jace,” you breathed, softer this time, as if the name itself was fragile, something precious you were afraid to break.

His eyes closed briefly, the sound of it a balm to wounds you didn’t even know he carried. When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze pinned you in place.

“I’ve spent too long as a title, a duty, a shadow. But when you say my name…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I feel like myself again.”

"I love you," he said simply, his hand still extended. "In shadows and in sunlight, in torchlight and in truth. And I'm done pretending otherwise."

Your hand trembled as you reached for his, your fingers hovering just above his palm. "Your mother..."

"Knows," he said softly. "Has known, apparently, for quite some time." His lips quirked in a small smile. "She thinks the court could use more cultural enrichment."

You stared at him, comprehension dawning slowly. "That's..."

"A way forward," he finished gently. "If you want it. No more shadows, no more hiding. Just... this. You, and me, and your stories. In sunlight."

Your eyes were bright with unshed tears, but your smile – your smile was like watching the sun rise. "You impossible man," you breathed, shaking your head as a laugh escaped, soft and disbelieving. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me?”

“I’m asking for everything,” Jace said, his voice steady, though his hand still hovered just short of yours, waiting. “And I’m offering the same.”

Your fingers trembled as they reached for his, but you didn't pull away. "The court won't like it," you whispered, even as your hands intertwined. "A common performer, elevated so high..."

“The court will do as the Queen says,” he said, a grin appearing to cover half of his face.

You laughed softly, though it caught on something that might have been a sob.

"This is the most real thing I've ever done." He glanced around the theater, at the dust motes dancing in the morning light, at the worn stage beneath your feet. "This is me, standing in sunlight, telling you that I love you. That I've loved you since you first made me believe in the magic of stories. That I want to build something with you – something that serves both the realm and our hearts."

Your breath hitched. "You've never said that before," you whispered. "That you love me."

"I was a coward," he admitted, bringing your joined hands to his lips. "Hiding behind a hood, pretending I could keep my heart separate from my duty." His eyes met yours, clear and certain. "I'm not hiding anymore."

The sound of whispers outside grew louder – more people gathering, no doubt, to witness their prince standing in a common theater, holding hands with a performer in the morning light. But for once, you didn't pull away, didn't try to maintain proper distance.

His smile faltered slightly. "I'm sorry," he started, but you shook your head.

"Don't be," you said, squeezing his hand. "We needed that time – those moments in torchlight, when we were just ourselves. It let us..." You paused, searching for words. "It let us build something real, before we had to figure out how to make it fit in the world."

"What happens now?" you asked softly, your free hand coming up to trace the formal embroidery on his sleeve – so different from the plain clothes he'd worn in shadows.

"Now," he said, smiling slightly, "you finish running your lines. And I..." He glanced at the script still clutched in your hand. "I help, badly, the way I always did. Though perhaps this time I won't have to whisper."

You laughed then, real and bright, the sound echoing off the theater's walls. "You were a terrible scene partner."

"I was," he agreed, grinning. "But I made up for it with enthusiasm."

"You did," you said softly, your eyes dropping to his lips for just a moment. "Though I seem to remember you being better at other kinds of performance."

His breath caught as you stepped closer, your fingers trailing up from his embroidered sleeve to the collar of his formal coat. "Oh?" he managed, his voice rougher than before.

"Mhmm," you hummed, rising up on your toes. "Would you like a demonstration?"

The sunlight caught the gold in his eyes as they darkened, his hands tightening on your waist. "I believe," he murmured, "that would be most educational."

You tilted your head, your hand brushing up to cradle his jaw, the stubble beneath your fingertips grounding you. His lips hovered close – so close you could feel the tremor of his exhale against your skin. And then, finally, he leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first, as if he feared breaking you. His lips brushed against yours in a way that sent a shiver through your body, light and careful, but quickly deepened into something fuller, something aching. His mouth opened slightly, inviting you in, and when your tongue slipped past the curve of his lower lip, he groaned low in his throat – a sound that sent a thrill rippling down your spine.

It was wet, eager, yet tender, a dance of give and take, of exploration and familiarity. His hand splayed wide against your back, pressing you closer, as though proximity alone could erase the years spent apart, the careful boundaries you'd both maintained.

Between breaths, his lips barely parted from yours, you murmured, “I love you.”

The words spilled from you like a secret too heavy to carry anymore, your voice trembling with raw honesty. His response was immediate – a sharper pull, his lips chasing yours with urgency, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that made your knees weaken.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together as his thumb traced lazy circles on your jaw. His eyes searched yours, a soft smile curving his lips despite the heat still pooling in his gaze.

“I take this as a yes?” he murmured, his grin widening when you laughed softly and kissed him once more, just to tell him yes without words.

Outside, the morning sun continued its climb through the sky, painting the theater district in shades of gold. The whispers would spread, the stories would grow, and soon all the realm would know of the prince who chose a performer, who dared to love in sunlight rather than shadow.

But in that moment, standing on your worn stage with his arms around you and the taste of his kiss still on your lips, none of that mattered. You had found your way back to each other, not in the secretive depths of night but in the honest light of day. And this time, neither of you was letting go.

taglist: @smurfelle @elliaze @sillylittlepenguin181818 @lustrz-anna @lovelyteenagebeard @misshale21 @cecestea @n4tsha @inspirationquxxn @rin588 @anoravx @bbubbllejisoo @vividxpages

gc lovelies tags: @benjinotes @earth4angels @xxselenite @eldrith @princessbellecerise @bryscorner @v3laryons @vee-mage @softspiderling @swordgrace @hxtd @divinesolas @housetargaryenloyalist @bucksplum @cregan-starks @fyrewept

[mymindisneverhere]

Playing Games

summary: Kelvin’s flight back home keeps getting delayed due to the weather leaving you a bit sad but he finds a way to make it up to you.  

warnings: none. pure fluff 🩵

(a/n: I want to start writing more fluff and who’s better than Kelvin to be my leading character. Enjoy!)

“Nah babe, my flight got delayed again so I won’t be in until later tonight or early tomorrow morning.” Kelvin said. You could hear the disappointment in his voice as he spoke to you. 

“Damn it.” You groaned into the phone. “Why do they keep pushing the flights back?” 

“It’s the weather baby but it’s all good. Are you still at your moms house?” He asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Just stay there and once I board the plane I’ll text you and let you know.” He could sense the sadness in your voice, slightly feeling the same way as he spoke to you. “If you don’t hear from me, my phone probably died but I’ll charge it as soon as I land.” 

You let out a deep breath before responding. “Okay, I love you!” 

“I love you too baby!” 

You hung up the phone and stared at the screen, totally lost in your thoughts. Kelvin had been on a press tour for the past six months and while you enjoyed being the girlfriend of an actor who was always booked and busy, you just wanted to finally be up under him after not seeing him for so long. 

“Was that Kelvin?” Your mom asked as she stood over the stove stirring the pot of stew she had made for the two of you. The weather hadn’t been too bad where you guys lived but it was freezing out and a nice bowl of stew always soothed you guys. 

“Yeah, his flight keeps getting pushed back.” You pouted slightly, placing your phone onto the counter while you watched your mom prepare the food. 

“He’ll be home in a little while, there’s no need to be upset sweetheart.” 

“I know but I guess I’m just worried about if I’m gonna have to wait until tomorrow to see him.” 

“You know that weather up north is always bad around this time of the year, but I’m sure you won’t have to wait until tomorrow.” She moved around the kitchen, grabbing two bowls from the cabinets and placing them side by side on the counter. “Grab the crackers from the pantry while I make our plates.” 

“Okay.” You went into the pantry and grabbed two sleeves of saltine crackers before returning to the kitchen. You frowned as your mom hurried to lock her phone and flip it face down. “Ma, who were texting?” 

“Oh that was your father, he’s out trying to get the garage to finally open.” She said, returning to a calm state as if she wasn’t in a panic just a few seconds ago. 

You eyed her skeptically before placing the crackers onto the counter in front of you. The two of you grabbed the large trays that held your bowls of soup and crackers and carefully walked to the living room where you both sat and watched the latest episode of RHOP. 

The two of you ate and gossiped about each housewife, giving your dramatic commentary for each scene, laughing and preparing for the next. As you watched the show, you couldn’t help but peep at your phone waiting for another call from Kelvin. 

Another hour had already gone by and you still hadn’t heard anything from him. You tried to enjoy your time with your parents but your worry for your boyfriend was growing by the hour and making it almost impossible for you to relax. 

“Finally got that stubborn garage to go up.” Your dad announced as he walked into the living room. 

“Well if you’re ready to go home, we can drop you off.” Your mother said, looking over at you. 

You simply nodded and stood from the couch. You stacked your tray on top of your mothers, along with the empty bowls and walked them into the kitchen. After a few minutes of washing and drying the dishes, you sat them aside on the empty dish rack and went into the back room to retrieve your things. 

“Is Kelvin done yet?” Your dad whispered to your mom. 

“He just texted me and gave me a thumbs up.” Your mom whispered back, nodding to him. 

You walked back into the living room, wrapping your scarf around your neck as you looked up at your parents. They were sitting in an awkward silence, looking around the room. 

“Why are y’all being so weird right now?” You asked, frowning at the two of them. 

“Honey we’re not, we were just having a quick chat that’s all.” Your mom said, placing her earmuffs on and grabbing her purse. 

You eyed her up and down then shifted your gaze to your dad who stood there with a nonchalant expression. 

“Let’s go.” He said, holding his hand out signaling for you and your mother to walk ahead of him.

You all walked to the garage, you first, then your mom and your dad right behind you two. All bundled up in your winter coats, scarves and mittens, you and your mom got into the car first. Thankful for your dad starting the car ahead of time, you guys quickly settled into the warmth of the vehicle. The heated seats and warm breeze escaping the vents brought you a small feeling of comfort as you prepared to head back to your place to spend yet another night alone. 

Your dad finally got into the driver's seat and slowly pulled out of the garage and onto the streets. You didn’t notice him staring at you through the rear view mirror as you looked out the window, watching the cars pass by. You had hoped and prayed that Kelvin would finally be back home, safe and sound but finally decided to accept that he would just be there when he could. 

After a long 30 minute drive to your small neighborhood, you all pulled into the driveway of the townhome Kelvin had purchased for the two of you just a year and half prior. Grabbing your purse, you searched for your keys and pulled them from the very bottom of the bag. 

“Thank you guys, love you!” You said as you exited the car. 

“You’re welcome sweetheart!” Your dad stated. 

“Call us once you get settled in.” Your mom said, smiling from ear to ear. 

“Okay.” You shut the car door and walked to unlock your front door. After a few seconds, you finally got the door open and paused when you saw the walkway dimly lit with small tea light candles along the baseboards. You debated on turning around to have your dad come in to help check the house for safety but then a thought came to your mind.

‘Why would an intruder place romantic candles in my house?’

“I know he didn’t!” You whispered to yourself, finally realizing who was in your home all along. Taking slow steps, you walked down the hall until you reached the kitchen. There Kelvin stood in front of the dining table with a smile on his face. 

“You are such a liar!” You yelled, dropping your bag and running over to him. He wrapped his arms around you, stumbling back a bit as you jumped into his arms. 

“I wanted to surprise you.” Kelvin laughed hearing the genuine shock in your voice. 

The truth was Kelvin had landed three hours ago but convinced your parents to keep you busy while he planned a surprise for you. He knew how much you loved to be the first one he saw once he got off of the plane. You’d always meet him at the airport with a big smile and a warm hug. However, this time around, he wanted to throw you off completely. He was always trying his hardest to surprise you but it wasn’t easy getting things by you solely because you knew your man too well. 

You knew he was a jokester, always sneaking up on you, always play fighting with you and smothering you with kisses when you were upset with him. He knew that you were always a few steps ahead of him so he had to pull out all the stops to be sure you didn’t catch on to this surprise. Asking your parents to get in on it was the icing on the cake, as they were very open to playing into the surprise knowing you’d love it when it was all said and done. 

“My mom knew, didn't she?” You asked, finally back on your feet as you stared at him. 

“You dad did too.” 

“Oooh, I’ma call them and they’re not gonna hear the last of it. I swear!” You rolled your eyes. 

Kelvin laughed at you, watching as you paced back and forth trying to figure out how you weren’t able to put two and two together. Then it suddenly clicked for you; your mom constantly flipping her phone face down whenever you entered the room, smiling wide at you while you were entering your home, them acting weird when you were grabbing your scarf, it was all coming back to you as you paced the room. 

“I cannot believe I didn’t catch on.” You said, dropping your hands to your sides and staring at him in disbelief. 

“I got you babe, it’s okay to admit it.” He smiled, walking over to you to place a kiss on your lips. 

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes and turned away from him as he placed more kisses along your cheek and jaw. You gasped out loud when your eyes landed on the couch full of bags. Dior, Chanel, Steve Madden, Victoria Secret and many more bags sat on the couch and the rest sat on the floor in front. There were so many gifts in front of you, you didn’t know which bag to dig into first. 

“Oh my God!” You covered your mouth and turned to look at him, a sly smirk on his face. You ran over to the couch and kneeled down to the floor, scanning over every bag, so excited to unpack everything. It felt like Christmas for you all over again. “Babe, you did not have to do all of this!” 

“I told you to stop saying that.” He said, walking over to the couch and standing next to you. “I like seeing you happy and if I wanna buy my girl a bunch of gifts, I should be able to do that.” 

His tone became a bit serious as he stared down at you. Kelvin’s love language had always been gifts. No matter where he went in the world, he’d always grab something for you just to show you that you were always on his mind. However, you were always constantly feeling the need to decline those gifts because you didn’t want him to think that was the only reason you were with him. This never sat right with him and he never failed to remind you of it. He knew how much you cared for him, he never thought for a second that you were only with him for what he could do for you. But your constant need to remind him of that made him feel as though you didn’t think he trusted you. 

“I know, I know.” You spoke softly, looking down at the gifts. He had just landed and was back at home with you, the last you wanted to do was ruin the mood so soon. “Thank you babe, I really appreciate it, honestly.” 

“Open them, I wanna make sure everything fits.” He took a seat on the coffee table as he watched you plow through every bag. 

There were shoes, clothes, purses, lingerie, perfume, and jewelry. Anything you could think of buying for yourself had already been purchased by your man. You two sat in the living room as you tried on everything, testing it all out to be sure you truly liked what he bought. 

“You like it?” Kelvin asked, staring up at you as you pranced around in your new fur coat accompanied by a new pair of sunglasses. 

“I love it!” You shrieked, turning to him and rushing him with another hug. 

“Babe, you’re gonna break the table.” He said, reaching out to his side to prevent himself from falling over. 

“I don’t care, I love all of it!” You placed a kiss on his lips which of course fell into a passionate one.

“Okay I’m a bit tired from the flight.” Kelvin said in between kisses. “I barely showered.” 

“I don’t care, I missed you.” You said, still kissing him. 

“At least buy me dinner first.” He joked, knowing it would cause you to burst into laughter. 

“You are so stupid!” You laughed, finally getting up and letting him breathe. You playfully hit him on his shoulder as you stood to your feet. “I did miss you a lot though.”

“I missed you too.” Kelvin stood from the table and faced you. “But you’re stuck with me until I have to leave again. So that means I get to be your headache for the next couple of months.”

“Whatever.” You said playfully, rolling your eyes. 

“Come on, I’ll take your bags up to the room.” He said, grabbing as many as he could before heading up the stairs. You followed close behind him, carrying the rest of the bags up to your bedroom. 

“So you’re really tired?” You asked, placing the last bag in the closet. 

“Yeah that flight was rough, I couldn’t sleep at all.” He said, placing his hands on his hips. 

You eyed him up and down, folding your arms as you stared at one another. You hadn’t seen him in six months and now he was making you wait even longer to finally make love to him after a long wait. 

“I know you can’t resist me babe, but just give me some time to rest.” He joked, placing his hands on your hips and kissing you. 

“Fine, you can rest.” You said, unfolding your arms and turning to head back into the closet. “You’re gonna need it.” 

Kelvin’s smile dropped a bit as you watched you walk back into the closet so carelessly. 

“Wait, what do you mean I’m gonna need it?” 

You smirked to yourself, refusing to face him as he yelled from the bedroom. You organized your new shoes to fall into place along with your collection and placed the new clothes in their color coordinated areas while he continued questioning you. 

“Babe stop playing.” He laughed a bit, hoping you’d respond but you didn’t. When you failed to respond he immediately went back into a bit of a panic. “What you mean by that though?” 

His voice had returned to a serious tone and you couldn’t help but to laugh. Finally walking out of your closet you brushed past him saying, “Nothing babe, let’s just shower and get ready for bed.” 

His eyes followed you into the bathroom but his feet stayed in place. You made him a bit nervous but you didn’t care. He had his way of playing with your emotions and you had your way of playing with his. Getting your lick back was always your favorite part of your relationship with him and he knew it. 

“Babe, stop playing.”  

Please excuse any mistakes. 🩵

[n0vazsq]

Unstoppable | GB5 x Reader

pairing . . . gabriel bortoleto x f1!academy!driver!gf!reader

summary . . . Winning the F1 Academy Championship was special on its own, but when your boyfriend wins the F2 championship its even more special

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . okay but why is this so cute?? anyhow yeah one more fic then ill be on the smau grind

. . . It was a day neither of you would ever forget. Gabriel had just secured his title as the F2 champion, and you? You’d claimed the F1 Academy championship after a heart stopping battle that came down to the final race.

The gap between you and Abbi had been tiny all season, and as much as you respected her, you couldn’t deny the sheer relief of crossing that finish line first.

The paddock was chaos; team members shouting, cameras flashing, and celebratory cheers echoing everywhere. But amidst it all, there was Gabriel, standing off to the side, his grin so wide it could light up the entire circuit.

His race suit was tied around his waist, and his champagne soaked hair stuck up in every direction, but to you, he looked perfect.

"There’s my champion," he called out as soon as he spotted you. Before you could respond, he was already pulling you into a hug, lifting you off the ground as you laughed.

"I thought I was gonna lose it out there," you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. "Abbi was so close, I swear she could’ve reached out and tapped my rear wing."

Gabriel laughed, setting you back down but keeping his hands firmly on your waist. "Close doesn’t count, meu amor. You were unstoppable."

"Unstoppable is a bit excessive," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "I was barely holding it together."

He leaned in closer, his voice soft but certain. "Doesn’t matter how you felt. You did it. And I’m so proud of you."

Your cheeks flushed at the sincerity in his tone, and you couldn’t help but smile. "Guess I had to keep up with you, huh? Can’t let the F2 champion have all the fun."

"Ah, so this is a rivalry now?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Should I be worried about you stealing my fame next season?"

"Maybe," you shot back, grinning. "Better watch your back, Bortoleto."

It was moments like this, when the world around you seemed to blur into the background, that made everything feel so right.

Racing had always been your dream, but sharing it with someone who understood every high and low? That was something else entirely.

The celebrations carried on, and for a while, you were swept up in the whirlwind of congratulations and photoshoots.

But somehow, Gabriel never strayed too far, always finding his way back to your side. It was as if he knew exactly when you needed a steady hand to ground you.

At one point, the two of you ended up sitting on the edge of the garage, your legs laid out in front of you as you watched the party unfold. Gabriel’s arm was draped around your shoulders, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your arm. You leaned into him, finally letting yourself relax after the chaos of the day.

"You know," he said after a while, his voice low and thoughtful. "I’ve dreamed about winning this championship for so long, but I never imagined it would feel this good. I think it’s because you’re here."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tilted your head to look up at him. "Gabriel…"

He turned to meet your gaze, his brown eyes so full of warmth it made your breath skip a beat. "I mean it. Sharing this with you makes it a million times better."

You didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned up and kissed him instead. It was soft and lingering, the kind of kiss that spoke volumes without saying a word. When you pulled back, his smile was smaller, more private, but just as radiant.

"Okay, your turn," you said, trying to lighten the mood. "What’s next for the F2 champion? Are you ready to take the big jump to F1?"

He laughed, the sound echoing around the empty pitlane. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah? Let’s just enjoy tonight."

"Fair enough," you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, soaking in the moment together. Around you, the party raged on, but it felt like you were in your own little bubble, untouchable and perfectly at peace.

Eventually, your team principal found you, informing you that you had to go to inside the garage.

Gabriel nudged you gently. "Go on, star girl. They’re waiting for you."

"Not without you," you said, grabbing his hand and dragging him along.

Your team principal smiled, microphone in hand and a playful glint in his eye. "Ladies and gentlemen, our F1 Academy champion!" he announced, prompting a wave of cheers and applause.

The team parted as the two of you made your way to the front, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of nerves as all eyes turned to you. But then Gabriel gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, and suddenly, everything felt better.

You took the microphone, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. "This season has been incredible, challenging, exhausting, but so, so worth it," you began.

"I want to thank my team, my family, and everyone who’s supported me along the way. And, of course, this guy right here," you added, glancing at Gabriel. "He’s been my support through all of it. I wouldn’t be standing here without him."

The team erupted into cheers, and Gabriel gave you a look that was both full of adoration and pride. He leaned in close, his voice just for you. "You’re amazing, you know that?"

"Takes one to know one," you whispered back, grinning.

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter, champagne, and endless congratulations. But no matter how many people pulled you in for hugs or photos, you always found your way back to Gabriel.

As the night quietened down, the two of you wandered away from the noise, finding a quiet spot under the stars. Sitting side by side on the grass, you looked up at the sky, the weight of the day finally settling in.

"Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"All the time," Gabriel replied, his voice soft. "But I think about where we’re going even more."

You turned to him, your heart swelling with affection. "And where’s that?"

“Anywhere we want,” he said simply, his eyes sparkling with determination.

In that moment, with the stars above and Gabriel beside you, everything felt possible.

The future was uncertain, as it always was in racing. But with him by your side, you knew you could face anything.

Together, you were unstoppable.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree ,, @freyathehuntress ,, @chilling-seavey (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[heyits481]

The window of the car is cool against his face, and Lando allows his eyelids to droop slightly as they bump down the road leading them back to their hotel. He feels the press of a knee against his, knows it’s Oscar- it’s only them in the backseat- the driver up front humming to some African song on the radio. It’s good, Lando wants to Shazam it so he can use it for an Instagram post in the future, but doesn’t know if it’s alright for him to or if people would cancel him for, like, being culturally insensitive or something.

He huffs at Oscar’s knee bump, doesn’t have the energy to peel his head away from the glass. “That was a bit shit.” Oscar says, keeping his voice low under the volume of the music.

Lando grins against the glass, happy that the team had convinced Oscar to come along to the gala and endure the circus with him. Having someone around to divide the misery with. “It always is mate, you came last year, did you expect it to be that much different this time?” There’s a thoughtful hum from Oscar and Lando feels him shift in his seat. “Yeah. No, I meant more, the video. Like, fuck them for feeding into the drama and stuff.”

Oh. Lando feels his stomach get a bit warm and fuzzy at that. “Oh, I didn’t even, I guess I’m just used to it.” He laughs at the thought, finally turning to look at Oscar. His teammate doesn’t give much away with his expression, but he doesn’t laugh along which is unusual, and annoying to Lando who particularly enjoys making Oscar laugh.

“You shouldn’t be. Used to it. The team should do something.” Oscar’s eyebrows are squishing together, Lando wants to push them apart with his thumb. He shakes his head. “That’ll just make it- listen, it’s not something you have to worry about.” Lando doesn’t want to presume, so he adds on- “Not that I’m saying you are worried. Or like, would worry about me, like, I’m saying it’s all good, people just do things like this. It’s whatever.”

Oscar rubs at his throat, and it’s really only natural for Lando’s eyes to follow the movement, to watch the way Oscar’s fingers run over the skin. He wonders how his fingers would look there instead. Lando blinks his eyes quickly, clearly more tired than he was thinking. Oscar hums. “I dunno. I don’t know how you put up with it sometimes.”

To be fair, Lando doesn’t really know how he does either- didn’t really put up with it well at all until recently. “Yeah. Honestly, I think it’s just normal to me now. It’s like I’m..”

“Desensitized.” Oscar fills. Lando nods, smiling as he agrees. “Yeah, exactly.” But Oscar is still frowning slightly, still with the wrinkle between his eyebrows, so Lando reaches over and squeezes at his elbow. “Seriously. I’m fine with it, it’s for engagement and things, their opinion doesn’t actually matter.”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond before shaking his head softly and angling his body toward the window. Lando is the one who frowns now, unsure what he said wrong. But before he can ask what’s the matter they’re arriving back at the hotel, Andrea and Zak’s car just behind them, and all the way back to their rooms there's laughter and joking and Oscar is playing along as if nothing is the matter.

Then Zak is clapping him on the shoulder, Andrea and his wife are wishing him goodnight- the former placing a hand to his cheek and repeating how he’s done so well this year- and all of the sudden he’s alone again with Oscar. Oscar, who smiles at him gently and goes to open his own hotel room door.

“Osc, wait.”

Oscar presses his key to the pad, unlocking it, but pauses after pushing down the handle, turning slightly to meet Lando’s eye. Lando rubs the toe of one of his shoes into the ground, finds that he suddenly feels nervous for some reason. “Are you mad at me or something?” Lando doesn’t really know why Oscar would be mad at him, but he knows himself well enough to know if he doesn’t ask he’ll go back to his room, sit on the bed, and be unable to think about anything else.

His therapist had been working with him on this, being more assertive when something was bothering him and facing his concerns more directly with others. She says he ‘ruminates’ on problems too much, which- when he’d googled it after one session- he found basically means he overthinks things. Lando doesn’t know why she feels the need to use fancy words all the time but assumes it must come along with being a doctor or whatever.

“Lando?” Oscar breaks him out of his train of thought. “Did you hear me?” Lando shakes his head, cheeks flushing slightly. “Why would you think-” There’s a ding from the lifts around the corner and Oscar hesitates like he’s unsure if he should continue, then inclines his head slightly towards his door. “Want to come in for a minute?”

Lando kind of just wants Oscar to say he’s not mad, so that his brain can move past it all and he can go to his own room to sleep, but it seems like that won’t be happening so he nods and follows Oscar into his room.

The lights are dim, only a few of the lamps on, and the air con is humming faintly. Oscar leans against the kitchenette and raises an eyebrow at him. “So?” Lando bites at the dry skin of his lower lip, then runs his tongue over it. Watches Oscar watch him. “So.” He echoes back lamely. “I’m not mad at you.” Oscar says, pushing his hair back off of his forehead. Lando feels his shoulders relax automatically at the words. Really, he never thought Oscar would have been, it takes a lot to make Oscar mad- Lando’s only passed the criteria a few times- but it still feels nice to be reassured. “Mate. You couldn’t have just told me that in the hallway?” He says it in an exasperated tone that Oscar will be all too familiar with, and not take seriously at all. As expected, Oscar snorts, the corner of his mouth ticking up like he’s trying to stop himself from smiling.

“Reckon I could have, yes.” He sniffs. “I just wanted to explain-” Lando waves his hand around to cut Oscar off. “It doesn’t have to be a whole deal, I get it- I overthink how other people are feeling sometimes.” And care too much about what you think of me, he adds mentally.

Oscar shakes his head. He’s looking at Lando the way he does sometimes, the way that makes Lando’s brain feel all squirmy like he’s been out on a boat for too long. “No mate, I was mad. Just not at you, but I could see where you’d think-” Oscar pauses, seems like he is about to take a step toward Lando before slouching further against the counter. “I just hate that you have to deal with all that. Even if you say it’s fine, you shouldn’t have to be ok with people doing stuff like that to you.”

It’s silent for a moment, Lando brings his thumb to his mouth to bite at it without realizing and then drops his hand back to his side. On the one hand, Oscar’s his rival. He wants to beat Oscar just like every other driver, maybe even a bit more if he’s honest with himself, and Oscar could be playing the mental game- trying to get him to be all vulnerable or some fucked up power play that Mark Webber probably taught him. But on the other hand Oscar gets it. In a way his family, or friends, or therapist will never be able to. And for some reason he really trusts Oscar, even if maybe he shouldn’t.

“I was lying.” He says softly. “It doesn’t bother me as much as it used to but yeah, it’s kind of shit, like, always being on edge about how people will twist what I say. And that everyone else was celebrated tonight but that wasn’t really the focus when it came to my season.”

Oscar does take a step toward Lando then, brushes his hand at the cuff of Lando’s dress shirt, fingers hot against the skin of his wrist. Lando feels a flash of desire through him, wants Oscar to grab hold of his bow tie and pull him close. “You can always talk to me, you know, if you want to.” Oscar mumbles, thumb dipping under Lando’s sleeve.

Lando doesn’t remember when Oscar last mentioned his girlfriend, knows he hasn’t brought her to a race in a while, not posted her on socials, and now that Lando thinks about it Oscar has been texting him more than usual recently. But if Lando’s honest with himself he doesn't care either way if they’re still together or not, he just really wants to kiss Oscar- has wanted to kiss him for a while really.

Oscar’s lips are warm against his, wet in contrast to the way his own are dry and cracked because he always forgets to use the lip balm his mum gave him. The kiss lasts for what feels like a heartbeat before Oscar pulls back, and Lando thinks for sure he’s fucked it, keeps his eyes closed to avoid seeing how Oscar must be looking at him with disgust. But then Oscar’s palms cup his face and he feels the sweep of a thumb across his cheekbone, the press of Oscar’s forehead against his. When Oscar whispers the movement of air against his lips is like another kiss.

“Fuck. How could anyone ever speak badly of you? You’re absolutely perfect.”

[c-cobweb]

Hiii

So I have a request for doctor!charlie Mayhew x sexworker/pornactress!f.reader (only if your comfortable with this ofc) and reader often hang out with other colleagues on the back of the hospital and Charlie see them times to times but one day he found her on a porn site and became a little more friendly with her to have what he wants but she is just doing it for work.I’m so sorry I know it’s not really good explain English is not my first language 😭😭🙏

Love kiss kiss 💗💗🫶

𝓢ex favours ⋮ doctor charlie mayhew

ᡣ𐭩 . warnings ᯓ +18 mdni!, smut, doctor!charlie mayhew x pornstar!reader, mentions of male masturbation, dirty talk, p i v, kinda dom!reader, car sex. a/n ᯓ english is not my first language! also tysm for all the love to my last work, i love y’all🫶

───────── ⋆⋅🕸️⋅⋆ ────────

You said goodbye to your coworkers once you were dressed up and left the small recording studio.

The building in which that small recording studio was located was near the city hospital, so you went to the back of the hospital and lit a cigarette. Waiting for your taxi to arrive.

Several metres from you was Doctor Charlie, it was not the first time he saw you — rather he was watching you —, but you never paid much attention to him. Your face was familiar to him and he was sure he knew you from somewhere, but he never knew where.

Later that day, Charlie arrived home; exhausted from his long day at the hospital. After dinner and changing into more comfortable clothes, he grabbed his laptop and sat on the bed. He quickly went into incognito mode and then to his favourite website.

He was looking for the perfect video for a while until he saw it, he saw you. The miniature showed your face in close-up and the beginning of your perfect tits gathered in a lace bra.

Charlie didn't take long to take his semi-hard cock out of his sweatpants and began to caress it as he played the video.

. . .

The next day Charlie was waiting for you at the back of the hospital, as always. You wore a simple outfit, a tight tank top that slightly showed your pink bra and dark jeans shorts.

Before you could take a cigarette out of your purse, Doctor Charlie approached you and offered you one. “Do you want a cigarette?” He asked with his eyebrows slightly raised.

You looked at him from top to bottom, evaluating his physique. You could tell that he exercised because of his muscles, but his hair was thrown back and his all-black outfit betrayed him that maybe he was working in the hospital.

You shrugged before answering and grabbed a cigarette from the package that that attractive stranger offered you, “Okay, thank you” Before you could take your lighter he was already offering you his.

“May I?” He said bringing his hand with the lighter to your face as soon as you put the cigarette between your lips. You just nodded your head.

While he lit your cigarette, his eyes did not move away from yours, and when he saw that you did not look away, he smiled sideways.

“I’m Charlie, Charlie Mayhew” He finally introduced himself while leaning against the wall next to you.

After expelling the smoke from the first pout you took, you also introduced yourself, after an uncomfortable silence Charlie spoke again. “You know, your face is familiar to me, could it be that I've seen you around here before?” He played dumb, as if he didn't really know where he knows you from.

You smiled to yourself and let out a small laugh. “Oh, really? Yeah, maybe you've seen me around here before...” You replied by following the game. “I bet that you are a doctor” You guessed while inhaling your cigarette again.

“Exactly, I work in this same hospital,” he said referring to the building behind you. “And you, what do you do for work?” He asked innocently, running through your body with his gaze, appreciating your curves.

You snorse sarcastically, moving the cigarette away from your lips to be able to talk. “I think you know perfectly what I work for” You looked at him from your position with a playful smile.

“Yes, I may know,” Charlie replied, crossing his arms over his broad chest and lowered his head a little to look at your face.

“Be honest, Doctor Mayhew. What do you want?” You were sincere, you knew that that man wanted more than a simple friendship. “I know from experience that men who treat you well don't always have good intentions”

“You think you're very smart, don't you?ñ He let out a low laugh. “What do you think is what I want you?”

“Sex,” You whispered throwing the cigarette smoke on his face and then throwing it to the floor and stepping on it with the sole of your shoe. “Why do you think I should have sex with you?”

“Well; I'm tall, handsome, smart, I have a good job...” He began to list with his fingers. “And if none of that convinces you, I can pay you”

“God, no! I'm a pornstar, not a prostitute” You said giving her a bad look, but quickly your attitude went back to the way it was before. “But you're right, you're well built...”

Charlie was surprised when you grabbed his hand with yours and gave him a slight squeeze. “Let's go to your car”

Without asking questions, the man began to walk, taking you with him until you arrived at a gray car.

He opened the car with the key and pretended to open the pilot's door, but you stopped him by pulling his hand towards the back of the car.

You made him enter the back seats of the car first and then go up and sit on his lap, straddling him. Once you closed the car door from the inside and then brought your face closer to Charlie's and whispered on his lips “Kiss me”.

Doctor Mayhew didn't take long to obey your orders, joining your lips with his in a heated kiss. His tongue immediately made its way to enter your mouth while his hands walked along your thighs, then to your hips and finally to your waist, where the edge of your shirt unhook. “Can I?” He said slightly stretching from the garment.

You didn't let him do it because you immediately took your shirt over your head and threw it on the floor of the car and then unbuttoned your bra.

Charlie's eyes went straight to your breasts, admiring the beautiful shape they had “You don’t know how many times I touched myself looking at these tits”. His hands took them in and with his thumbs he traced circles around your nipples. “Don’t tease,” You demanded with a firm voice as you began to move your hips on his, brushing your crotch.

You intertwined your fingers with his hair and pulled him to have access to his neck. Quickly your lips went to his pulse point, sucking and kissing it, your actions made the doctor growl and moan under his breath.

His hands continued to massage your breasts and poke the nipples between his index fingers and thumbs, making you moan against his neck. Your hands were slowly going down from his shoulders to his chest and then to the waist of his pants, unbuttoning the belt and putting your hand in his boxers without warning.

While you massaged his member inside his clothes, he unbuttoned your shorts, lowering them down your thighs until they were on the floor of the car next to your shirt.

“Are you ready?” You asked with a cocky smile, taking his cock out of the confines of his clothes.

“Fuck, I’m more than ready, baby.” Charlie replied by pushing your panties to the side to expose your dripping centre.

Before putting him inside you, you spat on his member for more lubrication, giving him a couple more caresses until you finally went down on him. Charlie threw his head back and closed his eyes while growling, instead, you were already starting to move your hips from front to back in a torturous way.

His hands went to your hips to make you start moving up and down, bounceing on him. You rested your chest on his and arched your back to get a deeper angle, that way his cock touched all the right places inside you.

“Is this what you wanted?” You asked purring in his ear, starting to move faster.

“Yes, fuck, yes” He said moaning and growling. His hands went down to your ass to squeeze it and guide your movements. “I've fantasised so many times about fucking you...”

You smiled playfully and whispered again “It looks rather like I'm the one who's fucking you.” You left a sensual kiss on his cheek, guiding your lips to his neck again.

“You’re a bad woman,” He growled, complaining about your actions.

“Yeah, I’m bad, but you are enjoying it” You answered as you stepped back, resting your hands on his knees behind you.

In the new position you were in you could grab more impulse, so you began to move more agilely on Charlie.

You felt how his cock twitched inside you and how his breathing became more agitated, a sign that he was about to come. “Are you going to cum now?”

Doctor Mayhew could only nod his head and let out a small whine, he was desperate to reach climax.

But you didn't allow him yet, since you took his dick out of your pussy just when he was about to cum. “What are you doing?” He complained.

You began to massage his member as at the beginning, Charlie looked at you pleased but confused. “Do you really think I'm going to let you cum inside me?”

He licked his lips settling better in the seat to give you more access to his hard cock. “At least let me make you feel good too,” He whispered and then took his hand to your wet pussy.

And so you both started masturbating the other. Your hand went up and down on his dick, occasionally caressing the tip with your thumb. And Charlie caressed your clit while two of his fingers were immersed in your wet centre.

The doctor was the first to finish, doing it on your hand. His chest rose and fell quickly and his head was thrown back. His fingers, motionless inside you, but he didn't take them out of you.

You began to move your hips again, fucking yourself with his long digits. Seconds later you came on them.

You were both still, trying to regulate your breathing. After coming down from the cloud you were in, you began to pick up your clothes from the floor to put them on, also taking a handkerchief out of your bag to clean your hand.

“Well, thanks for the quickie.” You said once you were presentable and you opened the car door to leave.

“Wait,” He said grabbing your wrist. “Let me drive you home”

───────── ⋆⋅🕸️⋅⋆ ────────

mlist , bots

taglist: @dzsr77 , @nicholaschavezbby , @hoffmansgirl , @nicholaschavezslut69

 c-cobweb 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[creatur3featur3]

ੈ✩ Street Rat p5 ✩ੈ

word count: 12k GOD DAMN IM GONNA BURN OUT WTF

A/N: uhhh lots of rambling on, i wanted to edit this pretty heavily but, my nights are being taken by watching the loml play Stray on my nintendo switch so- yall get a unedited version because I have a life outside of this! don't kill me please

warnings: mentions of wounds, smut at the end, eating out Sev (r) (I could only write so much of it sorry gang)

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

You sat stiffly on Sevika’s couch, your legs bouncing with barely contained anxiety. The fabric beneath you was surprisingly soft, not what you expected from someone like her. The whole place, really, was more put-together than you’d imagined. Still gritty, still undeniably hers, but… not a total dump.

Your hand hovered over your side, pressing gently against the makeshift bandage you’d thrown together on the way here. The stab wound throbbed, a sharp reminder of your less-than-stellar life choices. The fight had been ugly, and the guy you’d gone up against clearly hadn’t cared about playing fair.

“Stay still,” Sevika’s voice cut through your thoughts. She was across the room, rummaging through a cabinet. “You’re already bleeding all over my floor.”

You winced—not from pain, but from the sharp edge in her tone. “Sorry,” you mumbled, though you doubted she cared about the apology.

Sevika turned around, her metal arm gleaming faintly in the dim light as she carried a small kit over to you. “You’re lucky I’m even bothering,” she grumbled, dropping it on the table with a clatter. “Most people wouldn’t be dumb enough to pick that fight in the first place.”

You glanced down, avoiding her gaze. “He started it.”

“Yeah?” Sevika raised an eyebrow, pulling out a roll of bandages and some antiseptic. “And I’m guessing you just had to finish it, huh?”

You didn’t respond, biting your lip as she knelt in front of you. Her expression was unreadable, though the way she grabbed your arm to hold you steady was gentler than you’d expected.

“This is gonna sting,” she warned, holding up a bottle of antiseptic.

“I’ll be fine,” you muttered, bracing yourself.

The first touch of the liquid made you hiss through your teeth, your whole body jerking involuntarily. Sevika’s grip tightened, keeping you still.

“Stop squirming,” she said, her tone softer than before.

“I’m not squirming,” you shot back, though the watery sting in your eyes said otherwise.

She chuckled softly under her breath, shaking her head as she worked. “Tough talk for someone who can’t handle a little cleaning.”

You glared at her, but it didn’t hold much weight—not when she was literally keeping you from bleeding out. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, smirking as she wrapped the bandage around your side. “But don’t get used to it. This is a one-time favor.”

“Sure,” you said, wincing again as her fingers brushed against a particularly tender spot. “One time.”

But the way Sevika lingered, her hands steady and careful as she patched you up, made you wonder if she meant it.

Sevika sat back on her heels, her sharp eyes narrowing as she finished securing the bandage around your side. Her lips pressed into a thin line, the quiet tension in the room thick enough to choke on. She didn’t look amused.  

“Alright,” she started, crossing her arms over her chest as she rose to her full height, towering over you. “Mind telling me why the hell you’re still out there getting into fights?”  

You glanced up at her, then quickly looked away, suddenly finding the scuffed floor fascinating. “I mean, it’s the Undercity,” you said, shrugging nonchalantly despite the pain it caused. “Fights happen.”  

“Don’t give me that,” she snapped, her voice low and gruff. “You promised you’d do better.”  

There was a long pause. You could feel her gaze boring into you, waiting for an answer. Finally, you sighed, raising your hands in mock surrender.  

“Okay, okay,” you muttered, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “I may or may not have had my fingers crossed when I said that.”  

Sevika blinked, her expression unreadable at first. Then, her jaw tightened, and she let out a sharp, exasperated laugh.  

“Are you kidding me?” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re unbelievable.”  

“I mean, technically, I didn’t lie,” you pointed out, trying to suppress the grin creeping onto your face.  

“You’re lucky I didn’t let you bleed out,” she muttered, shaking her head as she leaned against the wall, arms still crossed.  

“Come on,” you said, sitting up straighter despite the ache in your side. “It wasn’t that bad.”  

Sevika raised an eyebrow, gesturing pointedly at the blood-stained rag you’d used earlier. “Sure. Not bad at all.”  

You winced, scratching the back of your neck. “Okay, maybe I could’ve handled it better.”  

“Maybe?” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.  

“Alright, alright,” you relented, holding up your hands again. “I’ll be more careful next time.”  

“There shouldn’t be a next time,” Sevika said firmly, her gaze hardening. “You’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep this up.”  

The weight in her voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.  

“I’ll… try,” you said quietly, your smirk fading.  

“Good,” she replied, though her eyes lingered on you, softer now, as if she wasn’t entirely convinced.

Sevika leaned against the kitchen counter, her metal arm glinting under the dim light as she glanced back at you. “You hungry?” she asked, her tone gruff, but the question caught you off guard.  

Your stomach growled in reply before you could even think to answer, and you sheepishly scratched the back of your neck. “Starving, actually,” you admitted with a small laugh.  

Sevika raised an eyebrow, pushing herself off the counter. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, heading toward the tiny kitchen area.  

“Warn me?” you echoed, watching her rummage through a cabinet.  

She shrugged, pulling out a few ingredients and setting them on the counter. “I’m not much of a cook,” she muttered. “But I’ll try.”  

You couldn’t help the skeptical look that crossed your face. Sevika? Cooking? The woman who looked like she lived on cigars and sheer spite?  

Still, you stayed quiet, leaning back on her couch as you watched her work. It was oddly mesmerizing—her movements were steady, calculated, like everything else she did.  

When the aroma of whatever she was making started to fill the room, your skepticism started to waver.  

Finally, Sevika placed a plate in front of you, her expression unreadable as she nodded toward it. “There,” she said. “Eat up.”  

You hesitated for a moment, staring at the food. It looked surprisingly good—better than you’d expected from someone who claimed they couldn’t cook.  

The first bite was cautious, your eyes widening as the flavors hit your tongue. By the second bite, you were practically inhaling it.  

“Oh my god,” you mumbled around a mouthful of food, eyes wide. “This is incredible.”  

Sevika blinked, clearly not expecting your reaction. “It’s just… a simple recipe,” she said, scratching the back of her neck.  

“Simple?” you repeated, gesturing wildly with your fork. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”  

She smirked, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. “You’re easy to impress.”  

“No, seriously,” you insisted, taking another enthusiastic bite. “You could open a restaurant or something.”  

Sevika chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t get carried away.”  

You leaned back in the chair, fork clinking softly against the plate as you savored the last few bites of Sevika’s unexpectedly amazing meal. “You know,” you started, trying to keep your voice casual, “you’re way too humble for your own good when you’re around me.”  

Sevika raised an eyebrow, smirking as she leaned against the counter. “Humble, huh?”  

“Yeah,” you said, gesturing toward your empty plate like it was evidence. “I mean, come on. You act all tough and gruff, but then you go and do something like this? It’s throwing me off.”  

She chuckled, the low sound sending a shiver up your spine. “Maybe it’s hard not to be when I’m with you,” she replied, her tone surprisingly soft.  

The words hung in the air, heavy and unfiltered, and you felt your breath hitch. Your cheeks warmed, your heart skipping a beat as you fumbled for a response.  

For the first time in your life, you found yourself genuinely flustered—and not in a way you hated.  

You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried to regain some semblance of composure. “That’s… well, that’s not fair,” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze.  

“Not fair?” Sevika teased, her smirk deepening. “What, you can dish it out but can’t take it?”  

You scowled half-heartedly, the heat in your cheeks betraying you. “I can take it just fine,” you shot back, though your voice lacked its usual edge.  

Sevika chuckled again, her eyes softening as she watched you squirm. “Good to know,” she said simply, her tone carrying an undertone of something… warmer.  

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to run or hide from it.

“So,” you sighed, pushing yourself off the couch and standing up, stretching your arms high above your head. A series of satisfying pops followed, and you let out a content groan. “What’s the plan? You going out to fight people? Play cards or whatever it is you do to keep busy?”

Sevika raised an eyebrow at you from her spot on the couch, her metal arm resting casually on the armrest. “I’m going to bed,” she said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked at her, genuinely caught off guard. “Wait… seriously? Bed? Right now?”

She nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. I do that sometimes, you know. Sleep?”

You crossed your arms, still staring at her like she’d just told you the sky was green. “I don’t know, Sev. I just assumed you were some kind of nocturnal machine or something. Sleep doesn’t seem very… you.”

Her smirk deepened as she leaned back, clearly amused by your reaction. “And what exactly do you think I do all night? Patrol the streets like some kind of vigilante?”

“I mean…” you trailed off, shrugging as you gestured vaguely at her. “Yeah? You’re Sevika. Isn’t that, like, your whole thing?”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she stood up, towering over you. “I hate to disappoint, but even I need to recharge sometimes,” she said, her tone laced with teasing sarcasm.

You snorted, stepping aside as she moved past you. “I don’t know if I’m more shocked that you sleep or that you’re admitting it to me.”

You stood there in silence, watching Sevika disappear into her bedroom. For a moment, you debated your next move, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. And then, before you could stop yourself, you found your feet moving, following her into the room.

Sevika didn’t say anything as you stepped inside, though the way she glanced at you with a raised eyebrow made it clear she noticed. She didn’t tell you to leave either, so you took that as an invitation to linger.

Her room was simple, surprisingly so. The bed was neatly made, the walls bare save for a few scratches and dents that told stories you’d probably never hear.

As Sevika sat on the edge of the bed, unbuckling her metal arm, you decided to take a risk. “So,” you started, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smirk, “does this mean I get to sleep with you?”

Sevika froze mid-motion, her head snapping up to look at you. For a second, there was only silence, and then—

“You’ve got ten seconds to leave,” she said flatly, though you could see the way her lips twitched like she was fighting back a smile.

“Aw, come on, Sev,” you teased, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “It was just a joke.”

“Nine,” she continued, standing up and fixing you with a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement.

“Okay, okay!” you laughed, backing toward the door. “I’m going! No need to get all violent about it.”

She shook her head, muttering something under her breath as you slipped out of the room.

As the door clicked shut behind you, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. Sure, she’d kicked you out—but at least she hadn’t looked too mad.

Despite her threats, Sevika didn’t actually kick you out of her house entirely. Instead, as you were halfway to the door, she called out with a gruff sigh.  

“Hey,” she muttered, leaning in the doorway of her bedroom, her metal arm resting against the frame. “You can crash on the couch if you want. Better than whatever roof you’ve been using for the past nineteen years.”  

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden softness in her tone. “Wait, seriously?”  

“Don’t make me regret it,” she grumbled, her expression unreadable.  

You smirked, turning back toward the couch. “Aw, Sevika, I didn’t know you cared.”  

You flopped onto the couch, stretching out and making yourself comfortable. Sure, it wasn’t the most luxurious spot in the world, but compared to a freezing rooftop, it felt like heaven.  

Sevika lingered for a moment, watching you settle in before she disappeared back into her bedroom. As the door shut softly behind her, you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in your chest.  

Maybe she wasn’t as cold as she wanted everyone to think. Maybe—just maybe—there was more to her than the sharp edges and hard exterior.  

You had always had a hard time sleeping, never really being able to fully relax when you laid down. 

when you were younger you always had be a least a little alert so you could make sure your dad didn't hurt your mom. 

but after the fire— the nightmares were unbearable, and of course they happened tonight, just like any night-

The dream came like it always did—smoke and fire swallowing everything around you, your mother’s desperate cries echoing in your ears. You were running, your lungs burning as much as your legs, trying to reach her. Trying to reach anyone. But no matter how fast you moved, the fire was faster.

It consumed everything.

Your sisters laughter turned to screams, the warmth of their embrace replaced by the searing heat of the flames. You called for them, begged for them to come back, but your voice was lost in the roar of the inferno.

And then, just like always, you were alone.

You woke up with a start, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as you bolted upright on Sevika’s couch. Your chest heaved, your body slick with sweat as the remnants of the nightmare clawed at your mind.

You bit down on your trembling lip, quickly wiping at your cheeks to erase any evidence of tears. You couldn’t cry—not here. Not where Sevika could hear you.

Taking a shaky breath, you pressed your hands to your face, trying to calm the pounding in your chest. But the images wouldn’t leave. The fire, the screams, the overwhelming helplessness. It was all still there, as vivid as the night it happened.

You sat there in silence, your hands gripping the blanket Sevika had given you, your knuckles white from the strain. You tried to steady your breathing, counting in your head, focusing on the feel of the fabric against your skin.

Don’t wake her up. Don’t make a scene.

You’d learned long ago how to cry quietly, how to stifle the sound of your sobs so no one would notice. But as the minutes dragged on, the weight in your chest didn’t ease.

This wasn’t new. It was routine. But somehow, sitting there in Sevika’s home—knowing she was just a few steps away—it felt different.

You found yourself standing at Sevika’s door, pondering if you should even do this, she'd probably kill you if she woke up to see you just staring at her in her sleep– but you just wanted to have some sort of comfort tonight…

You cautiously opened the door, slowly walking over to Sevika's bed, and you saw her.

Sevika was sprawled out on her bed, one arm draped over her stomach while the other rested on the pillow beside her. Her metal arm gleamed faintly in the dim light filtering in from the street outside, and her steady breathing filled the silence of the room.

She looked… peaceful. Completely different from the hardened woman you knew during the day.

For a moment, you hesitated, torn between leaving her be and giving in to the ache in your chest. This was a terrible idea—worse than terrible. If she caught you, she’d definitely never let you live it down. But something about the way she seemed so at ease made you linger.

You moved a little closer, your heart pounding in your chest as you debated whether to wake her.

“Sevika…” you whispered, barely audible, testing the waters.

She didn’t stir.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging as you sat cautiously on the edge of her bed. You weren’t sure what you were doing—maybe you just wanted to feel like someone was there. Like you weren’t completely alone tonight.

For a moment, you just sat there, staring at your hands as you tried to will away the lingering images of the fire.

And then, Sevika stirred.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she shifted, her eyes slowly opening. She blinked, her gaze focusing on you in the faint light.

“What the hell are you doing?” she rasped, her voice low and groggy.

You froze, guilt crashing over you in an instant. “I—uh… nothing,” you stammered, quickly looking away. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just—”

She sat up, rubbing her face with her flesh hand as she muttered something under her breath. “You just what?”

You swallowed, your fingers twisting in the hem of your shirt. “I… couldn’t sleep,” you admitted quietly.

Sevika’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no real anger there—just annoyance mixed with something softer, something almost understanding. She let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the headboard.

“And you thought creeping into my room was the solution?” she asked, her tone dry.

You winced, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Just get in,” she interrupted, cutting you off.

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Get in the bed before I change my mind,” Sevika said, rolling her eyes. “If it’ll shut you up and let me sleep, fine.”

You hesitated, wondering if this was some kind of cruel joke, but the look on her face told you she wasn’t kidding.

Swallowing hard, you slid under the blanket, careful not to get too close.

“Don’t make this weird,” Sevika muttered, lying back down and closing her eyes.

You nodded, though she couldn’t see it, your heart pounding in your chest. “Thanks,” you whispered, barely audible.

Sevika grunted in response, already halfway back to sleep.

For the first time in a long time, the weight in your chest felt a little lighter.

Sevika would've never taken you for someone who needed to have someone to sleep by, but when you crawled into the bed and only about 5 minutes passed you were knocked out completely.

Sevika grumbled sleepily when she felt your body shift closer to her’s, hands lazily gripping at her arm, seemed like you craved the contact.

Sevika blinked lazily in the dim light, her grogginess fading just enough to register your soft, steady breathing. Your fingers curled lightly around her flesh arm, like you were holding on to an anchor in the dark.  

She sighed, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through her chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to care. But here you were, fast asleep beside her, looking more peaceful than she’d ever seen you.  

“Damn kid,” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.  

She shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, and let her head rest back against the pillow. Your grip on her tightened unconsciously, and she huffed, though there was no real annoyance behind it.  

For a moment, Sevika just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to your quiet breaths. She told herself she’d shove you off if you started snoring, or if you got too comfortable.  

But when she felt you relax further against her, your hand slipping down to rest on her arm as your body melted into sleep, she didn’t push you away.  

She closed her eyes, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles.  

“Don’t make this a habit,” she murmured, knowing full well she’d probably let you do it again.

—

More or less it did become a habit.

She hated that you slept up on that roof, where idiots could find you and rip you apart if they were creeping around– and they had, multiple times.

“Your not going back there,” Sevika had stated as you ate the best fucking sweetbread you'd ever had in your life.

You paused mid-bite, staring at her like she’d just announced the sun would stop rising tomorrow. “What do you mean I’m not going back there?” you mumbled through a mouthful of sweetbread.  

Sevika raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Exactly what I said. You’re not going back to that damn roof.”  

You swallowed, setting the bread down as you tried to process her words. “Sev, I’ve been living there for years. It’s—”  

“Unsafe,” she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. “And stupid.”  

You frowned, leaning back in your seat. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, it’s not like I have a ton of other options.”  

“You have one,” Sevika shot back, her voice firm but not unkind. “Here.”  

Your mouth opened, then closed again, her words catching you completely off guard. “Wait, are you—are you serious?”  

She huffed, running a hand down her face like this conversation was exhausting her. “Look, I’m not saying I want you here,” she grumbled. “But I’m not about to let you get yourself killed sleeping in some alley because you’re too stubborn to accept help.”  

You stared at her, a mixture of surprise and warmth blooming in your chest. “Wow, Sev. That’s… almost sweet of you.”  

“Don’t push it,” she warned, though the corner of her mouth twitched like she was fighting a smirk.  

You couldn’t help but grin, picking up the sweetbread again. “Fine, fine. Guess I can’t say no to free food and a roof over my head.”  

“Damn right you can’t,” Sevika muttered, reaching for her drink.  

And just like that, you found yourself with a new place to call home—even if Sevika would never admit that’s what it was.

She hated how you always convinced her to let you sleep in her bed, hated how you immediately crawled up next to her, hated the steady weight of your head against her chest — but she never asked you to move, only draping a lazily arm around you.

You had your own little routine as well, you were a early bird– like 3 in the fucking morning early. 

Sevika grumbled as she felt the bed shift under your movements, the mattress creaking slightly as you tried to quietly slip out.  

“Do you ever sleep?” she muttered, her voice groggy and laced with irritation.  

You froze mid-step, turning to look at her in the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” you whispered, sheepishly scratching the back of your neck.  

“You always wake me,” Sevika grumbled, running a hand down her face before glaring at you through half-lidded eyes. “What the hell do you even do this early?”  

You shrugged, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Secret early-bird business.”  

Sevika groaned, flopping back against the pillow. “One day, I’m locking the door and forcing you to sleep past dawn like a normal person.”  

“You wouldn’t dare,” you teased, sticking your tongue out before making your way to the small kitchen.  

As you busied yourself quietly with whatever “early-bird business” meant today—whether it was tinkering with a gadget you’d scavenged or practicing some half-baked card tricks—you couldn’t help but glance toward the bedroom now and then.  

Sevika might complain, might grumble about you being a menace, but you knew the truth: if she really wanted to stop you, she would’ve done it by now.  

By the time you finished, the faint sound of Sevika’s snoring drifted through the apartment, a quiet reminder that, for all her protests, she had a soft spot for you. And maybe—just maybe—you had one for her too.

She had even made time to try and teach you how to play cards, though your constant struggle and frustration of a toddler who's new toy broke made it hard…

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sevika muttered, watching as you furiously shuffled the deck of cards in your hands for the fourth time in a row, your face scrunched up in childlike frustration.  

“I swear these cards hate me,” you grumbled, fumbling as a few slipped from your grip and scattered across the table.  

Sevika sighed, leaning back in her chair with a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “It’s not the cards, it’s you. How are you this bad at a game literally everyone in the Undercity knows?”  

“Maybe because no one’s bothered to teach me properly,” you shot back, gathering the stray cards with an exaggerated pout.  

“I am teaching you,” Sevika said, her tone laced with mock exasperation. “You’re just too stubborn to listen.”  

You glared at her, holding up the cards in a way that was anything but professional. “Alright, teacher, then explain to me—again—how the hell I’m supposed to win this hand?”  

Sevika chuckled, leaning forward and taking the cards from your hands with ease. “First of all, stop holding them like you’re about to eat them,” she teased, spreading the cards out neatly before handing them back to you.  

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “This is impossible.”  

“It’s literally not,” Sevika replied, rolling her eyes. “Here, let me make it simpler.” She reached across the table and arranged your cards in a better order. “Focus on this. Don’t overthink it.”  

You hesitated, glancing at the new setup before looking back at Sevika. “What’s the catch?”  

“No catch,” she said, smirking. “I just don’t want to deal with your tantrums all night.”  

Despite her teasing, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened slightly when she saw your furrowed brow ease just a bit.  

“Well, don’t get used to it,” you muttered, though a small smile betrayed your words. “I’ll beat you eventually.”  

Sevika snorted, leaning back with a confident smirk. “Sure you will, rookie. I’ll be waiting.” 

and you had— eventually… albeit with Sevika letting you win, but you didn't have to know that.

You had gloated about it all night, even when you both slipped into bed, you mumbled on about how good you had gotten ( you in fact had not improved a bit and just stole cards when Sevika wasn't looking…)

Sevika lay there, her head tilted slightly as she watched you ramble on with barely-contained amusement. You were sprawled out beside her, practically buzzing with excitement as you recounted your “victory” for the third time that night.

“I mean, did you see the look on your face? You couldn’t believe I won!” you said, grinning ear to ear, completely unaware of the sly grin tugging at Sevika’s lips.

“Uh-huh,” Sevika replied, her voice low and lazy as her metal arm rested across her stomach. “A real prodigy, you are.”

You didn’t catch the sarcasm, too busy basking in your supposed triumph. “Damn right I am! Maybe I should start betting with other people. Who knows? I could be the next Undercity card champion!”

Sevika huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Sure. Just don’t come crying to me when someone catches you cheating.”

Your face froze for half a second, but you quickly masked it with a wide grin. “Cheating? Who, me? I would never.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening. “Right. And I didn’t catch you palming cards when I turned my back.”

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Accusations like that could ruin my reputation!”

“Your reputation’s already in the gutter,” Sevika teased, her tone light as she shifted to get more comfortable.

You huffed, crossing your arms as you flopped back onto the pillow. “Well, it’s not like you didn’t let me win,” you muttered under your breath.

Sevika turned her head toward you, her brow arching. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you chirped, your grin quickly returning as you turned onto your side to face her.

She shook her head, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice softer now as the energy of the night began to wane. “But you still let me sleep here, so who’s the real fool?”

Sevika rolled her eyes, but the faintest smile tugged at her lips as she reached over to flick your forehead lightly. “Go to sleep, you little cheat.”

You grinned, snuggling into the pillow. “Goodnight, Sevika. Sweet dreams about your champion.”

She groaned softly but didn’t reply, letting the quiet settle over the room. And despite her grumbles, she couldn’t quite hide the warmth spreading in her chest as she listened to your breathing even out beside her.

—

Sevika had expected you to be home by now, she of all people had beat you home and that made her worry, because as much as she hated admitting it she did worry about you getting into fights or something along the lines of that, because— you were clumsy.

10:21pm

You always came home around 10:20 if you were out, and you weren't here.

10:26pm

You still weren't here.

10:33pm

Sevika stood by the window, eyes scanning the dark street below, her mind restless. She had never let herself care this much about someone before, not in a way that made her stomach twist with unease. But damn it, she had a habit of worrying about you, even when she knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.

The clock ticked on, each passing minute making her more agitated. She checked the door again, even though she knew it wouldn't be locked, not when you were out there, doing whatever it was you did that kept her awake at night.

Another glance at her watch. It was nearing 10:40 now, and Sevika was on edge.

Her hand clenched into a fist at her side, fingers curling tightly. Where the hell are you?

She paced the room briefly, before stopping to look back out the window, hoping to see you walk through the door with that cocky grin of yours like you didn’t just send her spiraling into worry. It made her feel like an idiot, like she was overreacting, but the absence of your usual noise, the absence of you… it gnawed at her.

The door handle finally clicked, and the faintest sound of footsteps in the hall made her body tense.

“Sevika,” you called out quietly, sounding... off.

Sevika didn't even think before she rushed to the door, throwing it open to find you standing there, looking disheveled, your usual energy absent.

You didn't say anything at first, just looked at her. Something about your expression made her stomach churn.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sevika demanded, her voice sharp despite her concern. She wasn't trying to yell, but the way her heart was pounding only made her more irritable.

You looked up at her, your face half-hidden in shadow. "Just... out," you muttered, almost evasively.

“Out?” Sevika repeated, a dark look crossing her face. "You’re late, and you're clearly not fine. What happened?”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking away for a moment. Sevika knew you well enough to recognize the signs of a lie, and the fact you didn’t meet her eyes made her jaw tighten.

She stepped forward, her voice low and insistent. “Tell me what happened.”

For a long moment, you didn’t respond, and she thought she might just snap. But finally, you exhaled sharply, lifting your eyes to hers.

“I’m fine, okay?” you said, the words almost too quick, too defensive.

Sevika didn’t buy it. "No, you're not. You look like shit. What happened to you?" She stepped closer again, scanning your face for any sign of what you were hiding.

You bit your lip, seeming to struggle internally, before finally admitting, “I got into a fight. Nothing big.”

She didn't believe that for a second.

“Nothing big?” Sevika repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "What, you think I can't tell when you're lying to me? Where the hell were you?"

You exhaled, rubbing the back of your neck. "I wasn't thinking, Sevika... I just… got carried away, alright? I didn’t mean to worry you."

Sevika shook her head, a mixture of relief and frustration flooding through her. “Next time, don’t get carried away so much. Dammit, you could’ve been killed!” She reached for your arm, her fingers tightening around it. “You can’t keep doing this, especially when you know I’m the one who has to sit here and wait for you to come back in one piece.”

You flinched at her touch, but she didn’t let go, watching your face as her anger gave way to something more concerned, more tender. “You scared the hell out of me,” she muttered, softer now, her grip loosening.

You didn't say anything, but the way you looked at her, the vulnerability in your eyes, made her chest tighten. And despite everything— despite the frustration and the worry— all she could think about was how relieved she was that you were back.

Then- a soft meow from your coat.

Sevika froze, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as the faint sound of a meow reached her ears. Her gaze dropped to your coat, where the noise seemed to be coming from.

“Is that—” she started, only for the small, scruffy head of a kitten to poke out from beneath the fabric. Its fur was patchy and matted, and its eyes… the poor thing was blind, its eyes wounded and closed tightly.

You flinched under Sevika’s stare, your arms tightening protectively around the kitten.

“You’re what made me late,” you mumbled sheepishly, scratching the kitten’s chin as it leaned into your touch, letting out another tiny meow.

Sevika’s eyes widened slightly, her usual tough exterior faltering as she took in the pitiful sight. “Are you serious?” she said, her tone caught somewhere between disbelief and exasperation.

“It was hurt!” you argued, looking up at her with an uncharacteristic determination. “I couldn’t just leave it there.”

Sevika pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath about how you were going to drive her insane. “So, what? You’re bringing it here?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s blind, Sevika. What was I supposed to do?”

“Leave it?” she suggested flatly, but the slight softening in her expression betrayed her words.

You shook your head, holding the kitten closer. “I’m not heartless.”

Sevika stared at you for a long moment, her jaw tightening as she weighed her options. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she stepped aside, gesturing toward the couch. “Fine. But you’re taking care of it. Not me.”

You grinned, relief washing over you as you hurried to set the kitten down on the couch. “Thanks, Sevika. I knew you had a soft spot somewhere in there.”

“Don’t push it,” she grumbled, crossing her arms as she watched you fuss over the kitten.

As you gently cleaned the little creature’s face with a damp cloth, Sevika couldn’t help but watch, her irritation fading as she saw how careful you were. Despite herself, she muttered, “What are you gonna name it?”

You looked up at her, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I was thinking something like Shadow. Fitting, right?”

Sevika rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Shadow, huh? Hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I’ve got it handled,” you said confidently, holding up the kitten like it was a prize. “Right, Shadow?”

The kitten let out a tiny, raspy meow, and Sevika shook her head, muttering under her breath, “You’re both gonna be the death of me.”

Sevika glared at you as you carefully placed the blind kitten—now affectionately named Shadow—on the bed, right between the two of you. The tiny creature curled up instantly, letting out a soft purr as it snuggled against Sevika’s pillow.

“You’re really making me deal with this?” Sevika grumbled, her voice dripping with irritation as she jabbed a finger toward the tiny black fluff ball.

“You said it could stay,” you pointed out with a sly grin, slipping under the covers as if this were all perfectly normal.

“I didn’t say it could take my bed,” she shot back, glaring at the kitten like it was personally responsible for all her troubles.

Shadow let out a tiny meow, its head turning toward the sound of her voice. Despite herself, Sevika softened slightly, though she tried to hide it by crossing her arms.

“Look, it’s blind,” you said, your tone softening as you stroked the kitten’s scruffy fur. “It needs comfort, Sevika. Would you really make it sleep on the floor?”

Sevika groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, but she made no move to remove the kitten.

Instead, she climbed into bed, her movements careful so she didn’t disturb Shadow. The kitten perked up at the shift and blindly pawed at her arm, letting out another small purr as it nestled closer.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sevika muttered, her voice low, though she made no effort to push the kitten away.

You bit back a laugh, watching the way her tough exterior melted ever so slightly as Shadow settled in. “You’re a natural, Sev,” you teased, propping your head up with a hand.

“Don’t,” she warned, shooting you a look, though the effect was ruined by the way Shadow nuzzled into her side.

As the kitten’s purring filled the room, you couldn’t help but smile, the sight of Sevika reluctantly sharing her space with the tiny creature warming your chest.

“Goodnight, Sevika,” you murmured, your voice laced with amusement as you turned over.

“Goodnight,” she grumbled, glaring at the ceiling. “Both of you.”

Though Sevika couldn't help but wonder why you brought home a kitten of all things right after you seemed to get into a fight, your cheeks bruised- your arms scratched up and covered in dried blood… and you had brought home a kitten.

As Sevika laid there, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting back to you. You were fast asleep, your breathing even and soft, while Shadow nestled contently between you both, oblivious to the storm of questions running through Sevika’s mind.

A kitten. Of all the things you could’ve brought home after getting into what was clearly a bad fight—a scruffy, blind kitten was your grand prize.

Sevika’s eyes narrowed as she recalled the state you were in when you’d finally shown up. Your cheek was swollen and turning an ugly shade of purple, your arms were littered with scratches, and your knuckles looked raw from punching something—or someone.

And yet, you’d come home cradling a tiny, injured creature like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.

Shadow let out a faint purr, its tiny body shifting closer to her warmth. Sevika sighed, her metal arm resting heavily against her side. It wasn’t the kitten’s fault—it was yours. You, with your reckless habits, your infuriating stubbornness, and that damn bleeding heart of yours.

She couldn’t decide whether to be angry or… something else entirely.

Sevika’s gaze flicked toward you, your face soft in sleep despite the bruises marring your skin. You were an enigma to her, a frustrating mix of chaos and compassion.

“Idiot,” she muttered, though there was no heat in the word.

As much as she hated it—hated the worry you caused her, hated the way you seemed to drag her into your ridiculous messes—she couldn’t help but admire you.

Because even after all you’d been through, even when the world had done its best to harden you, you still found it in yourself to care. To fight for something—someone—other than yourself.

She couldn't help but wrap a arm around you though, sighing softly as she pulled you slightly closer, relaxing as you let out a soft breath, molding right into her as Shadow purred softly.

For a moment, Sevika stayed still, her arm resting lightly around your waist as she stared up at the ceiling. The sound of your soft breathing, paired with Shadow's steady purring, filled the quiet room. It was strangely… peaceful.

She exhaled deeply, her body relaxing into the mattress as she pulled you just a little closer, her flesh arm cradling you in a way that felt oddly natural. Your head nestled against her shoulder, your warmth seeping through the fabric of her shirt, and she couldn't help but notice how perfectly you seemed to fit there, like you belonged.

Sevika closed her eyes, her thumb brushing lightly against your side as she allowed herself a rare moment of vulnerability. Normally, she would’ve shoved you away by now, grumbling about needing space or pretending not to care. But tonight was different.

Maybe it was the kitten, a tiny symbol of your ridiculous compassion. Or maybe it was the quiet trust in the way you molded yourself to her, no hesitation, no fear.

“Trouble magnet,” she muttered softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

You shifted slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips even in sleep, and Sevika couldn’t stop the faint smirk that curved her own.

As much as she hated to admit it, there was something comforting about having you here, in her space, in her arms. And for once, she didn’t fight it.

Instead, she tightened her hold on you just a little, her eyes fluttering shut as sleep began to pull her under.

Shadow’s purring filled the air like a lullaby, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Sevika let herself relax completely.

—

That felt like such a short time ago now, but it was about 2 months now, Shadow being a little bit older but still running into a few walls when he wasn't following you around.

Sevika wouldn't admit it but she did like having Shadow around when you were out scraping together pieces for your little inventions, even making a custom little food bowl for Shadow with broken clay or whatever else you put in it.

Shadow had become a fixture in Sevika’s life, almost as much as you had. The kitten’s blind, clumsy antics brought a strange sense of levity to her otherwise harsh world. She’d often catch herself muttering under her breath as she watched him wobble around the apartment, tail twitching and nose leading him toward whatever he’d deemed interesting that day.

Even if Shadow did knock over her tools or chew on the edge of her gloves when she wasn’t looking, she never really got mad. Not that she’d let you see her soft spot, of course.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but notice how Shadow always seemed to gravitate toward Sevika when you weren’t around. You often caught her giving Shadow little pieces of meat off her plate, despite claiming she didn’t care much for pets.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, Sev,” you teased one day, leaning against the counter as you watched her scratch behind Shadow’s ears. The kitten’s purring was so loud it practically rattled the table.

Sevika shot you a pointed glare, though there was no real bite behind it. “Keep talking and you’re cleaning his litter box for the next month.”

You snickered, arms crossed as you grinned at her. “Come on, admit it. You’re soft for him.”

“I’m not soft for anything,” she growled, but the way her fingers lingered on Shadow’s tiny head betrayed her words.

Two months might not seem like much, but in this small bubble you’d carved out together, it felt like a lifetime. Shadow had become a symbol of something neither of you wanted to say out loud—something warm, safe, and maybe even hopeful.

As you tinkered with a half-finished gadget on the floor, Shadow bumped into your side, his tiny paws pawing at the edge of your jacket. Sevika glanced over from her chair, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Guess he likes you more,” she said, her tone amused.

You grinned, scooping Shadow into your arms as he meowed in protest. “Nah, I’m just the backup. You’re his favorite.”

Sevika snorted but didn’t argue, leaning back in her chair as she watched the two of you. Maybe she didn’t mind being someone’s favorite after all.

Or well, another person's favorite.

It had been six months. Six months since you stumbled into her life and somehow bound you and Sevika closer together in a way you never thought possible. Six months of living under the same roof, sharing quiet mornings, heated arguments, and nights spent laughing softly over a card game or falling asleep against her shoulder.

You weren’t sure why you’d waited this long to ask, but tonight felt different.

Sevika sat in her usual spot, her mechanical arm resting on the table while she idly ran her fingers through Shadow’s fur. You were on the couch, nervously picking at the edge of your sleeve, the question burning on your tongue.

“Sev?” you started softly, drawing her attention.

She glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

You hesitated, shifting in your seat. “Why have you let me stay for so long?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. Sevika frowned slightly, leaning back in her chair as if buying herself time to think.

“I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice low and guarded. “You just… stuck around.”

“That’s not an answer,” you pressed, leaning forward. “I mean, you’re you. Tough, no-nonsense, doesn’t-let-anyone-get-close Sevika. And I’m… well, me.”

Sevika huffed, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Yeah, you’re a pain in my ass.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t let her deflect. “Be serious for a second. Do you… do you like me or something?”

Her expression shifted, her smirk fading as she stared at you, the silence stretching uncomfortably long.

You swallowed hard, suddenly unsure if you wanted to hear the answer. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t, I just—”

“Shut up,” Sevika interrupted, her tone gruff but lacking any real heat.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t,” she muttered, looking away as a faint pink dusted her cheeks.

Your heart skipped a beat. “So… you do?”

Sevika let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

You grinned despite yourself, the nervous energy bubbling into something lighter, warmer. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Don’t push your luck,” she warned, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile.

That was all the answer you needed.

You smirked as you stood, the warmth in your chest giving you a burst of confidence. You sauntered over to Sevika, leaning against the table as her eyes tracked your every move.

“Come on, Sev,” you teased, crossing your arms as you tilted your head at her. “Why won’t you just admit it? Afraid it’ll ruin your big, tough image?”

Her jaw tightened slightly, her eyes narrowing as she leaned back in her chair, trying to play it cool. “You’re pushing your luck,” she muttered, but the faint flush on her cheeks betrayed her.

You leaned in closer, your face hovering just inches from hers. “Am I?” you whispered, your voice dripping with playful challenge. “Because I think you like having me around. Maybe even a little too much.”

Sevika’s eyes flickered to your lips for a split second before snapping back to your gaze, her stoic mask cracking ever so slightly. “Don’t get cocky,” she warned, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

You chuckled softly, your grin widening. “Oh, but it’s so fun to see you squirm, Sev. Who knew the infamous Sevika could be so shy?”

She let out an exasperated groan, running a hand down her face. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am,” you replied, straightening up and throwing your arms out with a playful shrug. “Still here after six months. Still stealing your bed. Still driving you absolutely crazy.”

Sevika’s lips twitched into a smirk of her own, her sharp eyes softening as she shook her head. “You’re lucky I’ve got a soft spot for strays,” she said, her voice low and almost fond.

Your heart skipped at her words, and your smirk softened into something more genuine. “And maybe you’re lucky I’m too stubborn to leave.”

Sevika rolled her eyes, but the way her gaze lingered on you told you everything she wouldn’t say out loud.

Sevika stiffened slightly, her breath hitching just a bit as your hand grazed her thigh. Her sharp eyes narrowed, but you could see the faintest tinge of pink creeping up her neck.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Sev?” you teased, leaning in just a little closer, your voice low and playful. “You never really talk about it. Do you ever think about… me?”

Her gaze flickered to your hand on her leg, and you could practically see the thoughts running through her mind, trying to maintain her cool but failing to fully hide the flush rising on her face.

“I—" She cleared her throat, her voice coming out rougher than usual. "I think you're pushing your luck even further, kid."

You grinned, sliding your hand just a little higher, your touch light but undeniably intentional. “Just curious, Sev. Thought you’d like a little honesty, especially when you’re always keeping things so tight-lipped.”

Sevika shifted in her seat, her jaw clenched as she shot you a pointed look. “You’re getting a bit too comfortable.” Her voice was thick with restraint, but there was something in the way her lips pressed together, something you couldn’t quite place.

“Maybe I am,” you hummed, not backing off, your hand inching just a little higher on her thigh as you took a step closer. “But I have to admit, I’m curious… Do you ever think about what it’d be like if I wasn’t just some ‘kid’ to you?”

The tension in the air was palpable now, Sevika’s body language a mix of annoyance and… something else. You could feel her muscles tightening, but she didn’t move away.

“Stop messing around,” she muttered, though there was no real bite behind her words. Instead, her eyes stayed locked on you, a silent challenge hanging in the air between you.

And you could tell… she didn’t want to admit it, but she was enjoying this—this strange back and forth, this undeniable chemistry that neither of you were willing to fully acknowledge.

You tilted your head, your lips curling into a playful smirk as your fingers barely grazed her inner thigh, making her tense under your touch. “You know,” you murmured, your voice dripping with confidence, “I’m not some naive teenager, Sev. I’m a grown woman. Maybe it’s time you start seeing me as one.”  

Her jaw tightened, and she shifted ever so slightly, her metal fingers twitching against the armrest of the couch. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” she growled, though her voice lacked its usual venom.  

You leaned in closer, your breath brushing against her ear as you whispered, “Am I? Or are you just scared of what happens if you stop pretending I’m just some kid to you?”  

Her sharp inhale told you everything. Her gaze snapped to yours, a mix of irritation and something far more vulnerable swirling in her steel-gray eyes. She was trying to hold her ground, to keep the walls up, but the cracks were beginning to show.  

“Don’t push me,” Sevika muttered, her voice low but wavering slightly.  

“Why not?” you asked, tilting your head as you brushed your thumb against her thigh again, the teasing touch sending a jolt through her. “Afraid you might actually like what happens next?”  

Her glare hardened, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. For once, Sevika seemed completely out of her depth, caught between wanting to shove you away and pulling you closer.

Sevika's eyes widened slightly as you slid onto her lap, your boldness catching her completely off guard. Her metal arm rested stiffly at her side, while her other hand hovered awkwardly near your waist, as if unsure whether to push you off or let you stay.

You leaned in closer, your fingers gently threading through her short, dark hair. “Why don’t you just admit it, Sev?” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with a teasing edge. “You’re into me. I can see it in the way you look at me.”

Her jaw tightened, her gaze darting anywhere but your face. “You’re full of yourself,” she muttered, though her usual gruff tone lacked its bite.

“Oh, am I?” you teased, leaning in just enough that your noses almost brushed. Your fingers continued their slow, deliberate path through her hair, and you could feel the way her body stiffened beneath you. “Then why aren’t you telling me to get off your lap?”

She let out a low growl, her hand finally settling on your waist as though to steady you. “You’re testing my patience,” she warned, though the faint flush creeping up her neck told a different story.

You couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “Or maybe,” you whispered, your lips hovering near her ear, “I’m proving a point.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, you swore you saw her resolve waver. But Sevika, ever stubborn, clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at you. “You’re playing with fire,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

You smirked, your fingers lightly tracing the curve of her jaw. “Good thing I’ve never been afraid to get burned.”

Sevika’s eyes locked onto yours as you spoke, the teasing, playful energy suddenly slipping into something more genuine. Her breath caught slightly, her usual guarded expression faltering for just a moment, like a brief crack in her armor.

You let the silence hang between you, the weight of your words settling into the space around you. "I’ve liked you for a while, Sev," you murmured, your voice softer now, the teasing edge replaced by something raw. "Ever since I first saw you, honestly."

Her brow furrowed slightly, her gaze flicking to your lips before meeting your eyes again, confusion and something else flickering there. "What do you mean?" she asked, her tone almost defensive, like she was trying to figure out whether this was some kind of joke or not.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. Instead, you continued, your voice steady. "I didn’t really realize it until you took me in. Until I started seeing the real you, not just the tough exterior you put on for everyone else."

Sevika was still, silent for a beat. Then, she sighed, her hand tightening subtly on your waist. “You’re an idiot,” she muttered, but it was gentler than usual, the words softer, almost affectionate.

You leaned in closer, your nose brushing hers ever so slightly as you whispered, “Maybe. But I think you like it.”

Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and she didn’t pull away. Her lips parted slightly as if she were about to say something, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat.

Then, in a moment of pure honesty, she let out a soft, resigned chuckle. "You’re not easy to ignore, you know that?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the admission. And for the first time, Sevika’s usual cold exterior seemed to melt away just enough for you to see a glimpse of what might have been beneath all the layers.

You leaned in just a little closer, your voice low and teasing. "So, are you only good at the rough stuff, or can you actually show some affection, too?" You smirked, your eyes flicking between her lips and her eyes, watching her reaction closely.

Sevika froze for a split second, her breath hitching. The playful edge in your voice clearly got under her skin, her jaw tightening. She was always so composed, so in control, but you were starting to see that she wasn’t as unshakable as she wanted everyone to believe.

She didn’t say anything at first—just stared at you, her expression unreadable, the tension between you thick. Then, without warning, she surged forward, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

It was rough—there was no sweetness, no hesitation. Just a fierce, almost desperate need that you hadn’t expected. She pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly against her as if to prove that she could do more than just words. It was everything you’d teased her about and more, but with an intensity that felt far from the casual, playful act you’d imagined.

When she finally pulled back, her lips lingering a fraction of an inch from yours, you were both breathless. She smirked, her voice low and almost rasping. "I can do affection," she muttered, her hand resting lightly on the back of your neck. "I just don’t do it for everyone."

Your pulse was racing, your heart hammering in your chest, as you caught your breath. "Guess I’m not just anyone, huh?" you whispered, still trying to keep up the teasing, but the words came out softer than you intended.

You giggle softly as Sevika pulled you into another kiss, you wrap your arms around her neck, gently rubbing her scalp, feeling her tongue wrap around yourself, tasting the lingering taste of her earlier snack.

Sevika's hands slid down your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. She was always so sure of herself, her strength evident even in the gentleness of her touch. As your fingers threaded through her hair, she let out a low hum against your lips, the sound vibrating against your chest. Her scent was familiar, warm, and comforting, mixing with the sweetness of the snack she'd had earlier, but you didn't mind. Every moment with her felt like its own kind of fire, both consuming and soothing in equal measure.

You could feel her smile, even if only faintly, as she pulled away for a breath, her forehead resting against yours. The energy between you two was always electric, and she seemed to enjoy drawing it out, savoring the closeness.

"You're distracting me," she murmured, her voice a rough whisper. "But I don't mind."

"So pretty," you gently mumble against her lips, feeling how her thighs flexed, rubbing together, seeming to want to ease the ache between them.

Sevika’s breath hitched at your words, her grip tightening around you as her body subtly shifted. The heat between the two of you was undeniable, a slow burn that made it hard to think straight. She pressed her forehead against yours again, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, a small, amused smirk playing on her lips.

"You always know how to make me feel… dangerous," she murmured, her voice low, full of that teasing edge she always carried.

Her thighs flexed again, the tension building in the way she moved, but it was as if she was holding herself back, savoring the moment of restraint. You could feel the way her pulse quickened, her body betraying the calm she tried to maintain.

"You have no idea," she murmured, voice thick with desire, her lips curling into a smirk that was both sultry and feral. "But... you’re gonna find out, aren’t you?" She reached for you again, hands finding your hips, pulling you closer with an intensity that left no room for hesitation.

Her gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, the space between you charged with the kind of tension that only one thing could resolve. Her teeth flashed as she gave you a knowing grin. "I’m not the one who's in control here anymore, am I?"

“Fuck no,” you scoffed as you plant a kiss against her lips before slowly rubbing her neck— before slowly lowering yourself to your knees, nails scraping at the fabric of her pants- “Do me the favor of taking those off will you?” you hum, half jokingly.

Sevika’s breath hitched as you dropped to your knees in front of her, the command in your voice sending a shiver through her body. She gave a low chuckle, her hands gripping the waistband of her pants with a purposeful slowness, as though savoring every moment of this. Her gaze was intense, predatory even, as she watched you, her chest rising and falling with anticipation.

With a teasing smile, she finally gave in, slowly pulling her pants down, revealing more of her body to you with a deliberate confidence that made your heart race.

She stepped out of the pants, eyes never leaving yours, her smirk never faltering. “There. Happy now?” Her voice was low, rough—her usual composed demeanor slowly slipping away in the face of the heat between you two.

“Of course I am, how could I not?” you hum appreciatively, gently nudging her legs apart, sighing softly at the apparent wet spot on her panties, hissing in a breath with a soft fuck.

Sevika’s eyes darkened as she felt the shift in your touch, her breath coming quicker at the sight of your reaction to her. The tension between you both was palpable, thick with desire and anticipation. She spread her legs just a little more, offering herself to you, her lips parting slightly as she inhaled deeply, her whole body betraying her desperation.

"Careful," she murmured, her voice a little raspier now. "I’m not as patient as I seem... and I know exactly what you’re thinking." She smirked, her fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt as if to keep herself from reaching for you immediately. Her hips tilted just slightly, an invitation, her body a taut coil of restraint and need.

She leaned forward, her voice a low rasp as she whispered, "Show me how much you really want it."

You hum in response before you slowly scoot between her legs pushing the fabric to the side, tracing a slow line up her warm folds.

Sevika's breath caught, her thighs tensing at your teasing touch. Her composure faltered as a sharp inhale escaped her lips, her usual control slipping with every slow movement you made. Her dark eyes were heavy-lidded, filled with raw desire and challenge.

"You're playing a dangerous game," she warned, though her voice had a breathy edge that betrayed her own anticipation.

You grinned, unfazed by her words. "And yet you’re still sitting here," you teased, tracing your fingers along the slickness that had already begun to pool between her thighs.

Her hips jerked involuntarily, and her head tilted back slightly, revealing the tension rippling through her body. “Keep that up, and I won’t be responsible for what happens next," she growled, though the tremble in her voice hinted at how much restraint she was clinging to.

You leaned closer, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Maybe that’s exactly what I want," you murmured against her flesh before slipping a finger inside her, the heat and tightness drawing a low, guttural moan from deep in her throat.

Her hips bucked as you added another finger, curling them just right, making Sevika grip the edge of her seat. Her eyes flashed open, locking onto yours. “Fuck,” she hissed, a rare vulnerability slipping through her otherwise formidable demeanor.

“You’re not as tough as you act when I’ve got you like this,” you whispered, pressing deeper, savoring the way her body clenched around you. “Are you?”

Her laughter was ragged, more of a breathless groan. “Oh, I’m still tougher than you can handle,” she shot back, though the desperation in her tone betrayed just how much she was unraveling under your touch.

“Guess I’ll just have to test that theory,” you quipped, quickening your pace and watching Sevika shudder as pleasure overtook her, her usual dominance giving way to the primal need building between you both.

“Tell me,” you exhale softly, gently thrusting your fingers before pulling them back, watching Sevika’s body stutter– “what's it like having a street fucking you right now? any criticism?”

Sevika’s head fell back against the chair with a guttural groan, her lips parting as she tried to catch her breath. Her hands gripped the armrests tightly, the muscles in her forearms flexing as if she was holding back the urge to grab you and take control.

Her eyes met yours, dark and smoldering, and a breathy laugh escaped her lips. “Criticism?” she rasped, her voice thick with arousal. “Yeah, I’ve got one.”

You raised a brow, pausing your movements just enough to make her squirm, your fingers still teasing her dripping core. “Oh? Let’s hear it, then.”

Sevika gave you a crooked smirk, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. “You talk too much,” she growled, her tone half teasing, half desperate. Her hips bucked slightly, seeking more of the pleasure you were withholding. “Less questions, more action.”

You chuckled, leaning closer until your lips hovered over hers. “Funny, coming from someone who can’t stop moaning my name.”

Her jaw clenched, a flicker of defiance lighting her eyes. But the way her body quivered beneath your touch, the way her thighs tensed as you thrust your fingers deeper again, told a different story. A broken moan escaped her lips, her resolve cracking as you curled your fingers just right, dragging another wave of pleasure from her.

“Fuck,” she hissed, her voice strained. “Fine. You win this round… but don’t think for a second I won’t get you back for this.”

You grinned, picking up your pace, watching Sevika’s composure unravel completely. “Looking forward to it.”

You eventually pull your fingers out, much to Sevika dislike but when you slowly lick a warm stripe through her folds she wished you'd done it sooner-

Sevika’s sharp inhale filled the room, her body jolting as your tongue made contact. Her thighs trembled on either side of your head, the usual iron grip of control slipping away entirely. A low, guttural moan escaped her lips, raw and unfiltered.

"Fuck—" she hissed through clenched teeth, her hand instinctively tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as if she couldn’t bear any distance between you. "Took you long enough."

You smirked against her heat, dragging your tongue slowly and deliberately through her slick folds again, savoring the way her muscles tensed beneath your touch. “Impatient, huh?” you teased, your voice muffled by the intensity of her arousal.

Sevika only groaned in response, her grip tightening, silently demanding more. You obliged, flattening your tongue against her clit before swirling it with just the right amount of pressure. Her hips bucked involuntarily, and her deep voice cracked into something breathy and desperate.

"Fuck... just like that," she muttered, the commanding edge in her tone softening under the weight of her pleasure.

You hummed in satisfaction, the vibration earning another shudder from Sevika. Every swipe of your tongue and gentle suction made her unravel further, the tension in her body coiling tighter with every second.

“You gonna admit I’m doing something right?” you teased between licks, though your focus remained intent on driving her wild.

Sevika’s laugh was rough and breathless. "Keep going, and I just might," she managed to gasp, though her body was already betraying any need for words.

“cum?” you giggled, the sound being cut off as Sevika’s thighs squished your head, making you moan softly against her.

Sevika groaned loudly, her thighs trembling as they squeezed around your head, locking you in place. “You think this is funny?” she rasped, her voice strained and dripping with need. "We'll see how much you're laughing when I—" Her words faltered as you flicked your tongue faster, pressing harder against her sensitive clit.

The moan that tore from her chest was deep and raw, and the pressure of her thighs only intensified, muffling your giggles into soft vibrations against her. The sensation made her whole body shudder, her grip in your hair relentless.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her composure cracking completely, "you—damn tease..." Her voice broke off into a strangled cry as you sucked just right, pushing her closer to the edge with each passing second.

Her hips jerked forward, chasing the release that was building so intensely it almost overwhelmed her. “Don’t stop," she demanded, her tone desperate now. "I swear—just..."

You hummed again, doubling down on your efforts, feeling the tremors wrack her body as her control shattered entirely. Sevika's breathing grew ragged, her moans turning into incoherent cries as the pleasure finally overtook her.

"Fuck—!" she shouted, her thighs trembling around your head as her climax hit hard, her entire body taut and shuddering beneath your relentless attention. Even as she rode out her orgasm, her grip never wavered, keeping you pressed against her until every last wave of pleasure left her breathless.

When her thighs finally loosened their grip, Sevika let out a long, shaky exhale, her body slackening in the aftermath. "You really think you're funny," she murmured, voice hoarse but tinged with amusement.

You lifted your head, lips glistening as you grinned. "I think you love it."

Sevika snorted, though her flushed skin and softened gaze betrayed her. "Yeah, yeah... maybe."

“I know you're old but– how about another round? or two? Shadow’s sleeping on the bed but- i'm sure he doesn't mind being kicked out for a few hours…” you hum cockily.

Sevika’s lips curved into a dangerous smirk, the gleam in her eyes rekindling. “Old, huh?” she rumbled, her voice low and gravelly. “Careful, or I’ll have to remind you just what this ‘old’ woman can do.”

You giggled, brushing off the mock threat. “Sounds like a challenge. Think you can keep up?”

Sevika sat up slowly, her muscular frame still radiating dominance despite the flush lingering from her release. "Oh, you’re not walking away from this anytime soon," she promised darkly, fingers brushing your cheek before trailing down your body. "Shadow better find another place to sleep tonight."

As if on cue, the kitten stirred lazily from his spot on the bed, oblivious to the brewing heat between you two.

“You think he’ll hold a grudge?” you teased, already feeling the ache of anticipation building again.

Sevika chuckled, a deep and satisfied sound. “Not as much as your legs will tomorrow.”

Before you could offer a retort, her hands gripped your hips, flipping you effortlessly onto the mattress. Her lips brushed your ear as she whispered, “Let’s see if you can keep that cocky attitude after round two.”

And from the glint in her eyes, you knew she was about to deliver on that promise—and then some.

—

Sevika woke up slowly, groaning as the ache in her back hit her like a freight train. The stiff, sore muscles screamed in protest, and she immediately regretted the way she’d slept. The bed felt too empty, her mind still clouded from the night before. And then, she noticed the marks.

Hickeys. Everywhere. Stinging, tender bites down her neck, across her collarbone, the curve of her breast. Her stomach was covered in sharp, almost painful reminders of what had happened. Her nipples were sore, too sensitive for her own comfort, a stark contrast to the usual hard edge of her usual self.

The absence of your warmth next to her felt jarring. She twisted in the bed, searching the room for any sign of you, and that’s when she noticed the open window. You were gone. Again. 

Fucking hell.

She sat up, running a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the lingering haze of last night. What the hell had gotten into her? She wasn’t the type for this kind of thing—at least, that’s what she kept telling herself. But then, when she closed her eyes, all she could remember was the way your hands had felt on her, the desperate, frantic way you’d begged, the taste of your skin– the way your ate her out in the perfect fucking way.

Shaking her head, she pushed the thought away as she got up and started to get dressed.  

A few minutes later, a sound caught her attention from outside her door—a soft, tentative knock, followed by the creak of the door opening.  

And there you were, standing in the doorway.  

You looked like shit.  

Your hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions, and there were dark bruises down your arms and legs. Your skin was covered in more marks—hickeys, smudged lipstick, and... something else, a kind of glow that made Sevika pause for a moment, something strange in her chest.

You held a small bag of food in your hands, offering it like it was some kind of peace offering.  

“I... uh... brought you food,” you mumbled, shuffling your feet awkwardly, eyes avoiding hers.  

Sevika’s eyes softened slightly, even though her irritation was still simmering beneath the surface. She took the bag, half-smiling as she inspected the contents. Sure, the food was stale, probably a bit old, but the gesture was enough to make her heart skip a beat in a way she couldn’t quite explain.  

“Stale food. Real thoughtful, Street Rat,” she teased, though her voice lacked its usual sharp edge. She glanced up at you, her gaze lingering a little longer than it should have. 

You were messed up, too—maybe even worse than she was. But it wasn’t just the bruises or the hickeys; it was the way you looked at her. That soft, almost unrecognizable look in your eyes. The glow, the fragile hope that maybe you were more than just another thing to be thrown away. 

Sevika sighed, leaning back against the table, rubbing her temples.  

“Just... next time, don’t get yourself killed, okay?” she grumbled, though the words didn’t have the same bite.  

You nodded quietly, offering her a small, crooked smile that made her heart tighten in a way she didn’t want to admit. 

“Yeah, okay,” you whispered.  

And for a moment, Sevika wondered if maybe, just maybe, you had her in a way she was– okay with admitting, just once.

[fiftyfiftyfinchy]

How do I tell him? (ArthurTV)

I’d been carrying the weight of it for days, the words lodged in my throat like a splinter I couldn’t dislodge. How do I tell him? Arthur hadn’t done anything wrong—of course, he hadn’t. That was just who he was. Warm. Understanding. Kind. But the thought of how he might look at me differently once I said it… it made my stomach twist every time I tried to work up the courage.

What if he thought it was a big deal? What if he overthought it? Or worse, what if he didn’t understand?

I sighed, staring at my phone on the kitchen counter. Arthur had texted earlier to say he was picking up some pastries from that little bakery I loved. It was such a sweet gesture, and yet my mind couldn’t stop spiraling. The truth was, most of my dating experience had been with women. Navigating this new relationship with Arthur felt like learning a language I hadn’t spoken in years. I was out of practice, unsure of myself in ways I hadn’t been in a long time.

The sound of the front door clicking open jolted me out of my thoughts. “Hey, love,” Arthur called, his voice soft but bright as always. “I’ve brought reinforcements. Croissants and… whatever these cinnamon things are. The woman at the counter swore they’d change my life.”

I forced a smile as he walked into the kitchen, his hands full of a crinkly paper bag and that ever-present calm energy. He looked at me, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You’ve gone quiet again,” he said, setting the bag down. “What’s on your mind?”

My stomach flipped. I hated how easily he could read me, how his gentle curiosity always made me feel like I couldn’t hide. Maybe that was why this was so hard. Arthur had this way of making me feel seen, but what if I wasn’t ready for him to see all of me?

I fidgeted with the hem of my sweater, the words bubbling up before I could stop them. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

Arthur leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched me. “Okay. I’m listening.”

I stared down at the countertop, tracing the lines of the wood grain with my eyes. “I… I’m bisexual,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Most of my dating experience has been with women, and… it’s been a long time since I’ve been in a relationship with a guy. I’m… I guess I’m just figuring out how to navigate this. With you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. I braced myself, my heart pounding, as I dared to glance up at him. Arthur’s expression was unreadable for a moment before it softened into something warm and steady.

“Okay,” he said simply, nodding once. “Thank you for telling me.”

My brows knit together. “That’s it? Just… okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He smiled, stepping closer. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you. If anything, I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. And… if you’re figuring things out, that’s okay, too. I’m not going anywhere.”

My chest ached with the weight of relief, the knot I’d carried for days finally loosening. “You’re really okay with this?”

“More than okay,” he said, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to have everything figured out right now. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

I nodded, a small smile breaking through despite myself. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Arthur said, his tone lightening as he gestured to the bag of pastries. “Now, let’s see if these cinnamon things really are life-changing.”

I laughed, the tension finally melting away. And for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe.

Before I could reach for the pastries, Arthur stepped closer, wrapping his arms around me in a firm, comforting hug. I sank into him, my cheek pressed against his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding me.

“I love you,” he murmured softly, his voice a low rumble. “Just as you are.”

My throat tightened, but this time it wasn’t with fear. “I love you, too,” I whispered, the words slipping out as naturally as breathing.

And in his arms, I felt safe, certain, and wholly seen.

-

@smzyyx

[waitmyturtles]

Hi there! I was just reading up on your post about all The Discourse that happened with MBDL (I don’t follow them but their post showed up on my For You dash and in isolation I agreed with it but then saw your addition and followed the posts and realised it was part of a much bigger conversation and *wowser*).

This is just a tiny question but I’m curious as to what you think because you are very active discourse wise on here. When you have a “negative” (or what can be perceived by some as negative) opinion about a show/pairing/etc, do you believe you shouldn’t use tags? In your 4 Minutes example you had a TW at the start of the post but still used tags. So if people were searching the 4 Minutes tag they would see your post, even tho you had a TW at the start. And to be clear I don’t think you were being like nasty or anything, you were stating your opinion but it was an opinion that could be deemed as negative by some, therefore, some people would argue that you shouldn’t use tags because the tags should only be used for, I guess, “nice” posts?

Like obviously there is a difference between writing an analysis/review/your feelings in a measured way and being straight up hateful but I’m curious about what you think about drawing the line between the two? Like I saw someone say regarding The Heart Killers that they don’t care about KantBison and just want to watch the FadelStyle scenes and someone commented, “why would you use the tag to say something like this if you have negative shit to say don’t use the tag!” (But they were… ruder about it)

I guess on the one hand it’s like, yes, if you’re being a “hater”, then don’t wander into a fandom space and yell at people enjoying something, but what can be deemed as “negative” and “hateful” can be a subjective thing because some fans often confuse being “critical/having criticism” with being “hateful”. I think the problem is some fans will see a post that has critiques and read it as an attack and say, “why would you tag this and enter it into the fandom space, you should have left it tagless so that it floated in the netherworld and I never saw it!”

Sorry if this makes no sense!! But yeah, to tag or not to tag, that is the question.

Hello @summerofofelia! This is a great question, one that I have thoughts on and that I also posed to my homies. As you have gone through The Discourse (capitalized, ha, and I’m sorry you waded through that), this is a relevant topic for the moment!

Generally speaking, I don’t think any one faction “owns” a tag. This perspective of “owning” a tag strikes me as an unnecessary power move of censorship of thought.

Some of the core arguments we’ve been having on each side of the Discourse have been around the question of: what pieces of art are ripe and available for criticism? My position (and that of my homies) is: if it’s art, it’s up for analysis, full stop. And I think you’re seeing, in the THK tag, power moves by people wanting to control what *can* be seen in that tag. And others can be susceptible to those power moves and public shaming moments, without even knowing it.

By the time I had gotten around to watching that 4 Minutes finale, I had done some previous tag scanning and saw the reviews were mixed. So I watched the episode, processed it (angrily), TWed my post for accountability, and went at it. Even though the environment of feeling about that finale was mixed, I also wanted to note, before anyone read my post, that my feelings were strong. As expected, I received mostly agreement from people who felt similarly about the finale, and some detracting feedback from folks who hadn’t read or heeded the TW.

Like I said in the Discourse post: I expect people to exert agency and personal responsibility to read what they read, and filter/block what they don’t want to read. The filter and block functions are there for a reason. The TW is important to me in these moments where I know a show has meant something to some folks, but — when I think a show has narratively failed (my main criterion for feeling if a show was artistically successful or not), I do feel like giving it the critical dress-down, and figuring out what worked and what didn’t. I think that process is not only worth writing about, but it’s also worth a contribution to the thoughtful annals of meta and feedback that this small community has about the shows. If we didn’t do that, the feedback on all of these shows, I think, would be universally bland, groupthinky, and untruthful.

Art is worth analyzing — and anyone who wants to write criticism has a right to do so.

I also want to distinguish among meta, versus mean-spirited blather (like unnecessary bullying of a celeb or a pair), versus the kind of comment that that blogger said about THK. These categories are anchored on intent.

I think all purposeful meta (including, tone-wise, critical rants) gets tagged, because it’s not being done to wantonly bully the actors or the show itself without analytical proof.

I kinda think that THK comment is hilarious, honestly, ha. I don’t think it was being done out of a mean spirit. It could be tagged — or it might not. Someone *was* speaking their truth, specifically about the show. And if another reading didn’t like reading that truth, then — they can block that blog, as I wrote in the Discourse, and curate their Tumblr experience.

Saying, say, that FirstKhao or JoongDunk simply suck, and just leaving that hanging out there like mistletoe, without analytical proof? Condescending to them meanly? Something like “idk I just don’t like his face?” I’d say don’t tag that. What is it meant to contribute to a larger conversation, which Tumblr itself is designed to foster? If a post is meant to simply bully, without context, I’d say, no tags (and reconsider why you’re on Tumblr).

Finally, as my homies and I were ruminating on, as mentioned above, readers have to exercise agency and personal responsibility on this site. Readers can’t expect any one blogger to fall in line with their demands. That’s a passive, Karen-esque demonstration of an attempt to steal power from another person. That fandom Karen isn’t taking responsibility for their own mind and body, and is expecting another person to do so on their behalf.

As a meta writer, I don’t think or write like anyone else, and it’s clear from the feedback I’ve received over the last two and a half years on this site that people have appreciated my writing and singular perspectives on shows. I also love the writing process. And part of being on Tumblr is sharing the joy of the love of whatever art we’re consuming (even if we’re critical of it), because Tumblr is about sharing and, hey — it’s a social media site. So I also think that that kind of sharing is important to consider when we use tags. As journalists know — writers write, in part, for the byline, and in part to share their work with readers. Tags help us disseminate our work and create a community of conversation around the art that’s worth pondering.

We *just* had this with Spare Me Your Mercy, with AWESOME dialogue among fans, stans, and critics of the shows that was diverse, considerate, enlightening, RESPECTFUL, and so much fun. People on all sides of the debate were reblogging each other and respecting our positions. I couldn’t have written my final assessment without tag diving, and I’m glad people weren’t afraid to praise or critique the show on the tag — because seeing that spectrum of reflection was, I think, a truthful assessment of how the show landed in community.

One last point. I think criticism itself is an art of writing to strive for doing well. (My 4M rant doesn’t count in this category, lol, but much of my writing does strive for this standard.) Many of my favorite writers are critics. My personal faves are some of the New Yorker stalwarts — Hilton Als on theater (if you consume Western queer media, I think Als’s writing is required reading), Anthony Lane on television, Pauline Kael on film. And Nat Hentoff, who wrote for the Village Voice, defined jazz criticism. I’ve written before about the importance of good criticism.

I don’t want to imagine a world where art critiques aren’t welcome. Criticism, as I wrote in the link above, so often lifts and celebrates art, even when that art is imperfect. (And it’s so rare when we get PERFECT art. Super rare.) If a piece of art fails on certain markers of success, like narrative coherence — is that not worth analyzing….because of another anonymous person’s rubric of arbitrary criteria?

I don’t buy it. That’s tone-policing censorship. The fandom Karens don’t own that turf. And I think that’s when using the tag is important.

It’s worth diversifying the global conversation on art. Tumblr is literally designed to do this via à vis tags. And Tumblr established the filter and block functions so that readers could protect themselves, with personal agency, and curate their own experiences. That agency doesn’t fall on anyone else but the individual reader. The writers can’t read the readers’ minds.

TL;DR no one owns tags! It ain’t a turf war.

[quibbs126]

So now me and my brother are watching g1, and we’ve currently finished the first Season 1 disc, so we’re halfway through it

I’m noticing the lesser used Autobots more, as in the ones that don’t show up in other series that often. I think by this point I’ve learned most of their names, but some of them don’t really get said much, particularly the ones with weird heads

Bluestreak is called Bluestreak but has almost no blue. It’s wrong to me

I think I’ve gained more of an appreciation for Wheeljack, because he’s there in most episodes. I think he’s pretty neat. I’m gathering that here at least, he’s basically the other medic (along with general inventor) alongside Ratchet. I think I’m shipping them over this idea

It’s not just Wheeljack though, I like Ironhide, Jazz, Hound’s a character I appreciate and wish was in more stuff

But also I’m noticing by this point how small the Decepticon cast is. Like yeah, I’m aware the Autobots have a larger cast in this series, but still

You got Megatron, Soundwave, Starscream and the other two Seekers, the camera guy that splits into three and doesn’t really talk much, and then three Cassettes, only one of which talks. And then also Shockwave, but he’s not there with the rest of them that often. That’s only like 8 and Skywarp, Thundercracker and Reflector are more side goons that don’t talk much (yeah Rumble is a goon too but he talks a lot more). It’s barely anyone really. I’m kind of waiting for more Decepticons to show up

And with it, I’m having a hard time remembering Decepticons that aren’t the big four or Seekers. I know there’s others, like Lockdown or Cyclonus or Swindle, but they don’t stick in my mind as much. I also want to apply this to characters who aren’t part of a set, like the Stunticons, Combaticons or Constructicons, which narrows down the list even further. Maybe I’m being pedantic on this point but it’s nagging me

Granted it’s not like I’ve known that many Autobots either, outside of the Animated and Prime cast. Ah well, that’s why I’m watching

Not sure I have anything else to say on here, I guess it was just random points on g1 so far

[starscream-is-my-wife]

Sometimes a day makes you want a Starscream to bite and squeeze

[mielgf]

besties…… i just completely impulse came out to my parents and it actually went very well given how abrupt it was

[leeb2s]

please for the love of god old tys avs fans help a poor fella out

i’ve been hunting down old avs content for tys. specifically when he interviewed the boys at one of the mile high dreams gala and the one where he’s bowling. i have photos there’s gotta be videos of that please i need them